


Past Tense

by kristen999



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Mystery, Off-screen torture, Protective Danny "Danno" Williams, Recovery, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-07-31 01:16:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 66,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20106772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kristen999/pseuds/kristen999
Summary: While investigating a kidnapping, Detective Danny Williams gets embroiled in a world of secrets and covert ops. He never anticipated the case would have connections to his own past, and he certainly never expected to be attracted to the victim, a man with no memories, whose pain and loneliness is achingly familiar.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story has scenes dealing with anxiety and PTSD. There is also off-screen violence, but nothing more than what we've seen in the show. If you have any questions feel free to message me at Tumblr or twitter. Thekristen999.
> 
> I started writing this last November and did not complete it until August. I suffered a pinched nerve in my neck which resulted in losing eighty percent range of motion in my shoulder. It’s been a long and on-going road to recovery and finishing this fic is a celebration. (Updated, not a pinched nerve, two herniated discs..can't do things by halves..lol)
> 
> This story is complete and I will post a few chapters a week as I edit.
> 
> A huge thank you to my beta readers Gaelicspirit and Tailoredshirt for all of their suggestions and crit. Both of you are rock stars! A tip of the hat to Imaginary_iby for early support.

* * *

Danny stared at his computer screen and debated buying the airline ticket. It’d been three months since he’d seen Grace. Too long. Distance and money were evil restrictions when it came to his daughter attending college on the mainland. Skype and weekly phone calls did little to ease the ache in his heart. He moved the mouse over the purchase icon.

Rapping knuckles on his door distracted him from blowing his savings. Danny waved Lou inside. “What’s up?”

Lou ambled over and took a seat in the chair opposite Danny’s desk. “Sorry for disturbing your brooding time.”

“I wasn’t brooding.”

“Yeah, you were.”

“No. I wasn’t.”

“Oh, okay.” Lou swiped a pen from Danny’s desk and started fiddling with it. “Would you prefer if I looked for some more feathers to line your empty nest?”

“Did you come in here for a reason? Or is your caseload not big enough?”

“All I’m saying is that I know a thing or two about children growing up and going to college.”

“I’m sorry, man. It’s just….” Danny bit his lip. Grace had opted to stay in California after getting a summer job. Charlie, Rachel, and Stan went to Europe to visit family. He had zero distractions. Work was the only thing that had helped pass the time. “Anyway. What’s going on?”

Lou looked like he wanted to press the issue but must’ve realized it was a lost cause. “I got a good tip from my CI about that string of robberies from Pearl. He thinks a major arms shipment is going down tomorrow.”

Finally, a break on that damn thing. During the last two months someone had been arming the Triads and Tongan Samoans with M5 assault rifles stolen from the base. Hundreds were still left accounted for. 

“How solid is this lead?” 

Danny hated to voice his skepticism, but the last time they followed a hot tip without much evidence, it didn’t pan out. And it was left to him to explain to the Captain how the Special Activities Division had wasted ten hours of labor. 

“My man has never let me down.” Lou started twirling the pen between his fingers. “Same dude that helped us bring down that meth ring. He said he thinks whoever is running the weapons are using an abandoned laundry cleaners.”

“A cleaners?”

“Yeah, some commercial facility used for washing and pressing restaurant linen.”

The stolen weapons had been used in several homicides, including a shoot-out with HPD. Two officers had been sent to the hospital. The Captain was out for blood, making the case a high priority. 

Gathering his stuff, Danny got up and snagged his pen back from Lou’s fingers. “Then let’s review the schematics and see about setting up surveillance.”

* * *

One of the perks of running the HPD’s Special Activities Division meant more access to resources and court judges willing to grant search warrants with minimum evidence. It helped that Danny’s team had a high success rate and good press. Although, he hoped the Captain would spring for larger office space one day. Remodeling HPD’s basement provided the needed room, but sunlight would be nice.

Too bad being HPD’s pet division didn’t erase the more mundane aspects of police work. After almost twenty years, Danny still lacked patience for surveillance. There’d been no movement outside the cleaners and no sign of life inside.

He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel.

“The power’s on,” Junior pointed out from the passenger seat. “For a place that’s been shut down for years, there’s no reason for electricity.”

It was night and Danny spotted overhead lights through the windows, but even with his binoculars he hadn’t seen any people. “There are no cars in the parking lot.” He continued tapping the steering wheel, hoping this wasn’t a big waste of time. “We could go inside and poke around.”

“But we don’t have any cause.”

Danny cupped his ear with his hand. “You don’t hear that?”

Junior stared at him in confusion. “Hear what?”

“A faint call for help.”

“Um…" Junior squirmed in his seat. Danny could practically see an internal fight play out across his face. “I…think I did hear something.”

Patting his partner on the shoulder, Danny opened the driver-side door. “We’ll break through those Navy rules yet.” 

Don’t get him wrong; Danny believed in regulations. They were necessary to good police work and an orderly universe. But sometimes rules needed bending to get anything done. 

Clicking on his com, he alerted the rest of the team. “Tani, Lou, we’re moving inside for a look-see.”

* * *

If anyone drove by the front of the cleaners, all they would see was peeling paint and smashed windows. The source for all the lights came from the rear, and the loading area showed signs of recent activity.

There were fresh tire tracks from vehicles peeling out at a fast rate of speed. Not to mention the back door was open.

Tani walked toward the entrance and pulled out her sidearm. “Lock’s been busted.” 

Danny drew his Heckler & Koch; Lou followed suit. Junior took position on Danny’s right. All three waited on his signal. 

Taking point, Danny pushed the door wide open with his foot. 

The loading area was clear except for the occasional spider. Searching for signs of activity, the team started down a long hallway in a hunt of suspects. 

Danny panned his flashlight around, the hair along his arms standing up. Something wasn’t right; he could feel it in his bones, but he couldn’t put a name to what was creeping him out.

“Hold up.” Junior crossed to the other side of the hallway, his flashlight shining down on the floor. Kneeling, he studied the ground. “I think this is blood.”

Danny gripped his weapon tighter. He spotted a few drops on the floor inches from a door. 

“I think I’ve got more splatter on the wall,” Tani whispered. 

The blood evidence was small, likely the result of a fight. Danny studied the door. A long metal bar used to keep it secure hung loosely from some brackets.

Lou muttered under his breath. Tani readied to breach the room on Danny’s signal. Junior took a position behind them and nodded.

Danny held out his hand and did a silent three count with his fingers. 

Tani kicked open the door. “HPD!”

She slid to stop after only taking a few steps inside. The room was the size of a storage closet. Danny took in the scene and his blood ran cold. 

There was nothing inside except a beat-up old cot that was shoved against the far wall. The thing was covered with a dirty sheet and had several pairs of leather restraints attached to the frame. Danny was nauseous at the sight. 

Junior slipped on some gloves and bent down to examine the restraints. “These are used for wrists and ankles.”

“Damn,” Tani swore. 

Swallowing against the bile in the back of his throat, Danny went back into the hallway. “We need to secure the rest of this place and get CSU in here.”

He led them down the rest of the corridor with renewed vigor. But there was no sign of life, nothing to indicate who had been kept prisoner. Then they reached the next door.

Danny walked inside a damp, cold room that looked like something out of a horror movie. The place was ransacked, broken boxes and random pieces of detritus scattered all over the ground. A wooden chair had been knocked over onto its side next to a drain in the middle of the cement floor.

But what drew Danny’s attention was a set of shackles that hung from the ceiling. He suppressed a fully body shiver. 

Lou picked up the remains of an IV pole while stepping around empty saline bags. “This is nuts.”

“Careful where you walk, there’s broken syringes and busted vials all over the place,” Tani called out, her voice tight. She walked toward the smashed remains of a cabinet. “There’s more stuff in here.”

“Okay, okay, we’ve got….” What did they have? Danny surveyed the scene and took a deep breath. “We’ve got evidence of a kidnapping.” 

“And torture,” Junior said under his breath.

“Stay focused,” Danny barked. They still had the rest of the building to secure. “Everyone on me. Let’s go.”

His heart pounded inside his eardrums as Danny exited the horror chamber in search of answers.

* * *

A dozen HPD vehicles and several units from CSU swarmed the cleaner’s back parking lot. Danny sipped on a bottle of water to calm his stomach while they roped everything off.

Eric walked out carrying several evidence bags. He barely glanced up at him, his steps hurried, features pinched. Tani followed on his heels, her expression drawn and pale. 

“What?” Danny demanded. 

“They, um…found this room.” She pulled back some hair that had fallen across her face. “It was all white, every inch of it.”

“A white room?” Danny’s mind flashed to the room with the syringes. “What else was in it?”

“Nothing. It was seriously painted all white.” 

Danny wiped a hand over his face. “And the torture room?”

Tani grimaced at his description. “It looks like it was cleared-out in a hurry. Eric has all the vials and saline bags. And he took the whole chair with him. CSU was in the process of removing the cot from the closet room when I walked by. I was going to go back inside and start there.”

“No, I will. I need perspective.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I just need to….” Danny wanted to see what their victim saw. Feel what they felt. He cleared his throat. “Can you check-in with Eric? Keep me updated on what he finds.”

Tani wiped her hands up and down her arms. “There’s a lot to process, boss.”

Yeah. No kidding.

* * *

The tiny room could barely fit two people inside. It reeked of old sweat and piss. Disgusting, degrading conditions. The first thing Danny noticed was the only light was controlled by a switch outside the door. Curling and uncurling his fingers, he did a circle inside the cramped space. 

How long had their victim been kept inside? With no sign of food or water, no idea of the passage of time, not a single item of comfort. 

“Completely at the mercy of someone else,” he said out loud. 

Danny scanned the floor, the walls, but there was no sign of additional blood. There was nothing. He sat cross-legged on the ground and closed his eyes. He listened to squawking of police walkie talkies and people moving around in the halls, imagined being restrained to some cot, cold and alone. No chance of rescue. 

Sighing, he stood up and grabbed the door handle, then froze. On the inside of the door was a bunch of scratch marks. He pulled out his phone and took several pictures.

Tugging on a latex glove, he rubbed his fingers over the marks. “Maybe you were allowed some free time? Got to stretch your legs or something.”

Danny stroked the scratches, hoping maybe, just maybe, he would find out.

* * *

Danny stared at the large computer screen set up in the common area where the whole team could review cases. They had a mountain of evidence but no victim. Danny refused to think about searching for a body. No, his gut told him the victim was still out there. Alive. Waiting. 

Junior walked over and glanced at the computer display. “Are those the marks you found on the inside of the door?”

“Yeah. I thought at first they were a bunch of random scratches, but there's a pattern.” Danny enlarged the image. “Long and short strokes.”

Junior stared at the screen in curiosity as Tani jogged over, out of breath. “We got the preliminary lab results back on the blood. It was from multiple sources, not just one. It supports your theory about a fight.”

“Anything else?” Danny asked.

“Eric said even with overtime it’s going to take days to go through everything. Turns out the saline bag actually contained saline. But there was a small bag that came back with trace amounts of Scopolamine as well as two other drugs that they were still trying to identify.”

Danny ran his hands through his hair. Did he just enter the _Twilight Zone?_ “Are we really talking about what I think we are?”

“Truth serum,” Tani said. “Yeah, I don’t believe it, either.”

It didn’t surprise Danny, given what he’d seen with his own two eyes. But it still hit him hard.

“There is currently no drug proven to cause consistent or predictable enhancement of truth-telling,” Jerry said, joining them around the little table. “Subjects questioned under the influence of Scopolamine have been found to be suggestible. But U.S. courts have not accepted any truth drugs as a genuine means of obtaining reliable information.”

Danny stared at Jerry, who stared back, unapologetic. “Sorry. As soon as I learned about the scene, I knew you’d need my expertise.”

“You have expertise in interrogation techniques?” Junior asked.

“As much as you. Probably more.”

Junior crossed his arms in challenge. 

But Danny wanted to know more. He brought up pictures of the white room on the large display for both Jerry and Junior to review. “So, this isn’t out of some sci-fi film?”

“I’m more familiar with things from SERE training,” Junior explained with a frown. “Prolonged exposure to loud music, painful restraining techniques. Water-boarding.”

Danny waved his hand. “Yeah, but not all-white rooms?”

“The use of white torture includes extreme sensory deprivation and isolation.” Jerry cleared his throat when everyone stared at him. “There are cases of Iran and North Korea using similar techniques on political prisoners.”

Before Danny could wrap his head around Jerry’s information, Junior made a _huh_ sound under his breath. 

Walking closer to the screen, Junior stared at the markings. Snapping his fingers, he turned around with a grin. “It’s Morse code.”

“You mean like S.O.S.?” Danny asked.

Junior buzzed with enthusiasm. “Exactly.”

“Don’t hold us in suspense,” Danny growled. “What does it say?”

“It’s the same five letters over and over again.” Junior squinted at the markings in confusion. “S.T.E.V.E.”

“Steve?” Danny repeated. “You think our vic was writing his name over and over again?”

“Maybe it’s the name of the person holding them captive,” Jerry suggested. 

Danny’s gut told him otherwise and he always trusted his instincts. It their vic’s name. But why would anyone do that? What could cause a person to scribble their name on the back of a door in Morse code like some desperate anchor?

Glancing back at the screen, Danny whispered under his breath. “Where are you?”

* * *

Labs were backed up. Forensics was behind. This kidnapping case had such a mountain of evidence that Danny wasn’t sure which crime took priority.

It was after midnight. He’d sent everyone home, but his team remained so they would at least have a good starting point in the morning. Danny scoured through missing persons and recent kidnappings going back six months, but there wasn’t anyone with the name Steve. His stomach growled. It’d been hours since dinner. 

A loud knock on his door drew his attention. Tani hurried inside. “Dude. Someone just tried to break into our crime scene.”

Danny stood so fast his chair almost tipped over. “What?”

“CSU had wrapped up for the night. They were waiting on Graveyard to come in when they caught someone trying to sneak in the side entrance.” Tani bounced up and down on her feet. “They didn’t catch the suspect, but they got their plates. Duke is waiting on us.”

* * *

What had they missed? 

“I want the whole building flooded with emergency lighting,” Danny demanded. “I want to see every detail. Someone risked returning to a place crawling with cops and I want to know why.”

Danny stalked down each hallway, glaring into every corner. Bright light bathed the walls and floors, but it didn’t provide him with answers.

He stormed inside a small office, the room closest to where the suspect had exited. Danny had been inside the office during his previous search, but there hadn’t been anything remarkable inside. The crime lab had packed up the contents of the desk drawer and computer. 

“Hey,” Lou called out. He was staring at the floor beside a set of file cabinets with his flashlight. “Over here. There’s a disturbance in the dust.”

Danny looked down at the floor and back up at set of empty file cabinets. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Using his shoulder, Danny moved the file cabinet out of the way to reveal a door hidden behind it.

Lou pulled out his weapon. 

Slipping on a glove, Danny opened the door to a room with a security system and a row of monitors. “Bingo.”

* * *

“You know it’s almost two in the morning?” Lou asked him. 

“I want to see what was so important to break back in here.” They had nothing. Every tape was on a two-hour loop and everything had been recorded over. Danny sat in a leather chair and looked at the controls for all twelve cameras. Camera eight had been shut-off. “Huh.”

“I know what you’re going through. There have been a lot of changes with the team in the last year,” said. “Chin moved to San Fran, Kono and Adam got married and went to L.A. We got a couple new pups on the team.”

“Did you just refer to Tani and Junior as puppies?”

“The five-year anniversary of the thing is next week.”

Danny almost broke the controls. He grit his teeth and moved his jaw back and forth. “I’m fine about that. And before you say it, I’m not going through a mid-life crisis.”

“I didn’t suggest you were. But brother, that’s a lot of change in twelve months. It’s a lot to take in.”

Camera eight had been stopped for a reason. Danny started rewinding it.

“Hey, there. Back it up some more,” Lou said, leaning on the back of the chair. 

“Yeah, yeah, I saw it.” Danny’s palms started to sweat. There was a lot of commotion on the screen to track. Danny went back to the beginning of all the movement and hit play. He recognized the vantage angle. “This is the hallway in front of the storage closet with the cot.”

Lou leaned more heavily on the back of the chair Danny was sitting in as the footage played out. The quality of the film was a grainy black and white. However, there was no mistaking two men approaching the door, one of them carrying a tray of food. As soon as the bar was removed, the door busted open, hitting one of the men in the face.

Danny heard Junior walk into the room and stand on the other side of his chair. But Danny’s sole focus was on the blur of motion on the screen. Their victim, or _Steve_, punched the tray-carrying guy in the throat then grabbed the tray and slammed it into the second assailant, who had been popped in the head by the door.

And Danny watched as Steve fought off both captors with raw brutality then leaned against the wall in obvious pain or exhaustion. After a beat, he removed a weapon from one of his captors and limped down the hall, disappearing out of frame.

“He escaped?” Lou asked.

“This is the only camera where the film hasn’t been erased. Maybe they wanted to review it to see how their prisoner got free,” Danny speculated. 

“Whoever he is, he’s trained,” Junior said.

“The images are so blurry; I couldn’t identify my neighbor from it,” Lou commented.

“Doesn’t change the fact that the guy can handle himself,” Junior remarked. 

Danny really wanted to know what the guy looked like.

“I think I saw something in one of the later frames.” Junior rewound the film and paused after the first minute. “There. You can’t see the vic’s face, but it looks like he has some ink on his arms.”

Lou squinted at the screen. “Man, that’s not much to go on.”

Danny studied the frame. All he could make out was a pair of pants in a t-shirt, a tattoo peeking out over his arm. “Good work, Junior. We’ll take it with us and see if Jerry can enhance it.” He popped out the tape and stared at it, his thumb rubbing over the surface. “Maybe we’ll get something to help identify the victim.”

Lou nodded, but he had to know it was a long shot. 

Danny slouched in the chair in thought. “This doesn’t add-up. Why abandon the building if he escaped? And why break in to steal poor security footage?”

“This gets creepier and creepier,” Lou muttered.

“It doesn’t matter. We’ll add them to the pile to review. In the meantime, we keep processing. We have no idea if our vic escaped or was recaptured.” Danny stood up and gestured at Lou. “It was your confidential informant that started this whole chain reaction. You need to bring him in.”

“I can’t do that, man.”

“Yes, you can. I want to know what he knows. Confidentiality be damned.”

“That’s not how this works and you know it.”

Danny pulled himself straight and stood in front of Lou. “We have evidence of over a dozen felonies and freaking spy-shit. We need more information.”

Lou held out his hands in a calming manner. “Look. I’ll reach out to him. I promise. But you need to take a step back. You need to go home, eat something, and take a shower and sleep. You hear me? You need to recharge.”

Clutching the video tape, Danny shook his head. “No. I’ll recharge later. The clock’s ticking.”

He was going to find this guy.

* * *

Video tape was impossible to enhance. Even Jerry couldn’t work his magic to make any of the images any clearer. He could tell that the two guards and their vic were Caucasian. 

After an hour of trying to clean it up, Danny wanted to throw his laptop out the window. Junior turned the main computer off and stood in front of it, arms crossed. Lou and Tani began turning off all the lights and Danny finally got the hint and went home. 

His team had been right. Danny needed to sleep and get his head on straight. He wouldn’t be any good to his team if he was tired, and he wouldn’t be able to work the case if he missed an important clue. 

Dragging his feet up his stairs, he opened the door to his apartment and was greeted by a wagging tail and the welcoming barks of Eddie. Danny’s somber mood evaporated a little at such enthusiasm.

“Hey, hey. I’m sorry for being so late.” Eddie ran circles around Danny’s legs as he tried to reach the kitchen. “Yeah, I know you’re hungry. I’m really sorry.”

He should have never gotten a dog. It was unfair. Eddie was a living creature and Danny was gone for long hours. Filling the bowl with food, Danny promised Eddie he’d do better, even though he knew it was a lie. 

After heating up leftover pizza, he sunk down on his sofa and ate. Damn, he was famished. 

After a minute, Eddie jumped up beside him and laid his chin on Danny’s lap, giving him comfort when he felt like he didn’t deserve it. Maybe he’d ask his neighbor to come over a few times to keep the pup company.

Why did he let Tani convince him to adopt? _You need someone to snuggle with you at night._ And then there was Junior’, _he’ll be a really good listener._ Like Danny was some pathetic, lonely hermit. At least they both had stopped trying to get him to go out on a date. Yeah, no. He had no desire to go there. 

What he needed was to solve this case. Their victim was out there somewhere. If he’d really escaped, he would have shown up by now. People who used white rooms and shackles and fucking Scopolamine were evil. He hated his gut sometimes. Like now, because it was telling him victim was not hiding somewhere.

Why did he let himself be talked into going home?

Maybe he’d missed something. Pulling out his notepad, Danny pushed his plate aside, and began re-reading his case notes to see if he could gleam something. Anything to help.

* * *

_Danny stood in front of the white wall, pressed his hands against the unforgiving surface. And wherever he looked all he saw was white. Like his eyes had been bleached out._

_His heart started racing. The white started taking over, and he couldn’t tell how far away the walls were. They began moving away, then closing in. He reached out to touch them, but it felt like he was spinning. He clutched his ears, straining to hear something, anything, but all he was met with was deafening silence._

_Sweating, he called out for help. But nothing came out of his throat. He started banging on the walls…._

A ringing sound caused him to jerk awake. Blinking in the darkness, it took a second to realize he was still on his sofa and his cell phone was going off. He almost knocked it over, grabbing it. “Hello?”

_“Danny. It’s Lou.”_

“Yeah?” Danny started swinging his leg around, his heart still racing from the nightmare. “What is it?”

“I reached out to my CI. He said there’s this shipment we need to stop.”

“A shipment?” Anger flared in his chest. “Like the guns he told us we’d find in those cleaners?”

“Look, man, he was insistent. He said if we want to get to the bottom of what happened there, we need to get on this shit now.”

“I want him at HPD.”

“I know. But we only have like an hour if we want to track this shipment before he reaches the pier and gets loaded onto a freighter headed to China.”

“Shit. Okay, okay, tell me where to meet you.”

Danny was halfway into a pair of pants when he hung up.

* * *

Danny wasn’t sure what to expect from this operation, and Lord, he was starting to sound like Junior. But he was still surprised when he spotted a freaking caravan of SUVs escorting a U-Haul. 

Lou’s CI had told them the route to expect. Junior consulted with SWAT about the best place to conduct an ambush, suggesting a blind curve leading to a bridge.

Junior picked perfect spots for their team. A gently sloping ridge overlooking the road. Danny laid flat in the grass on his stomach like some soldier on the battlefield. Junior lay beside him, primed and ready and totally in his element. It kind of freaked Danny out to see his quiet partner go all G.I. Joe, but Junior’s experience could only benefit the situation. 

Tani and Lou set-up across from them on the opposite hill.

“This gives us the advantage,” Junior commented. “And if anything goes down, we’ll catch them in a cross-fire.”

Danny peered through his binoculars as Jerry’s voice filled the coms.

“The convoy is one minute out. Two SUVs are escorting the U-Haul and one is taking up the rear.”

“We’ll let the escort SUVs go under the bridge then spring the spikes to stop the U-Haul,” the SWAT captain informed them over the coms.

“We won’t engage unless fired upon,” Danny reiterated for anyone with itchy trigger-fingers. 

Were their stolen weapons inside the convoy? Were those responsible for the torture room driving the SUVs?

Using surveillance cameras, Jerry kept them updated from a nearby van. 

Junior tensed beside him. He kept his sniper rifle steady at the approaching vehicles. Danny checked his M5. It felt like they were about to go to war.

When the lead SUVs went under the bridge, SWAT threw out the spikes, blowing out the U-Haul’s tires.

Then all hell broke loose. Men poured out of the SUVs and began shooting. SWAT returned fire. 

It felt like they’d been thrown in the middle of a battle. The sound of automatic fire filled the air. The SWAT commander yelled over the coms. Danny joined the fray, pressing forward. 

Danny took out two guys as bullets whizzed by his head. Tani met him halfway, both reaching the road as they approached the U-Haul.

Panting, Danny inched toward the back of the truck. The driver-side flew open, but Junior took out the man before he got a shot off.

The firefight died down, most of the bad guys dead or running. Danny only had eyes on the rear truck door. 

Tani covered him as Danny shouldered his rifle and pulled out his Heckler & Kotch. The back of the U-Haul didn’t even have a lock on it. 

Taking a shuddering breath, he glanced at Tani. Training her weapon at the back of the van, she nodded for him to go.

Danny yanked up the scrolling lift door with one hand and trained his sidearm with the other. It took a second for his eyes to adjust, but he made out two figures. One was laid out on the floor just inches from the door; the other was standing over the body, ready to leap out.

“HPD! Put your head up where I can see them!”

Danny could hear his pulse pound.

The man froze. His chest heaved with every ragged breath and he stared at Danny like he was his only obstacle to freedom. 

Danny made a show of lowering his weapon. “Hey, it’s okay.”

“Sir,” Junior warned over the coms.

“Everyone back off. Now!” Danny ordered. “Give us some space.”

Once SWAT moved out of sight, Danny holstered his weapon, telegraphing his moves. 

“Are you sure about this?” Tani asked.

“Yeah. It’s good.”

Tani lowered her rifle and took several steps back but remained close and non-threatening. 

Their victim did not relax; he scanned the area, his eyes darting around until his gaze landed on Danny. His shoulders tensed, and his hands remained out in front of him. It took Danny a second to realize they were tied at the wrists by a long piece of rope. Rage filled his veins, but it had no place in this situation. 

“Hey, my name is Danny. What’s yours?” Nothing. Danny cleared his throat. “Is your name, Steve?”

“W-hat?”

“Are you, Steve?”

“Y-yes?” Steve answered, hesitant. He narrowed his eyes at Danny. “How do you know that?”

“You left me a clue in Morse code.”

Steve’s breath caught in his throat, his mouth slack-jawed in disbelief. It took everything in Danny’s power not to step forward and reassure Steve that his message had been found. 

Steve’s arms trembled in earnest; his legs looked ready to buckle. It seemed only sheer willpower was keeping him upright.

“Look, you’re exhausted,” Danny coaxed. “Would it be all right if I helped you out of the truck?”

Steve began to sway, but he locked his knees in place. The amount of determination it required to keep standing impressed the hell out of Danny. Even with his hands tied in front of him, Danny was pretty sure Steve could take some of them out.

“It’s okay,” Danny said, speaking to Steve like he was a skittish animal. 

Steve shuffled closer to the edge of the truck. Flinching at the sunlight, he held his hands in front of his eyes, before slowly lowering them again. Danny bit his lip. Bleeding cuts peppered one side of Steve’s forehead and his face was heavily bruised and swollen. 

Danny held out his hands in supplication and inched closer. Steve’s nostrils flared, his breathing increasing. Danny froze, hesitant about his next move. 

_“Tell him to stand down, sir. He’s been in enemy hands for an unknown amount of time. He’s survived,”_ Junior instructed over the com. _“Tell him he’s safe.”_

Danny noted the filthy black cargo pants and the sleeveless olive t-shirt stained with dirt, sweat, and blood. “Steve, you did good work. It’s time to stand down. You’re home.”

Steve made a low, painful sound in the back of his throat. “I’m home?”

The uncertainty broke Danny’s heart. “Yeah, you’re home.” If he didn’t do anything Steve was going to collapse and hurt himself even more. “Come on, I promise I’ll stand by you, okay? I won’t leave until you’re secure.”

“Who…are you?”

“Danny.” He held his chin up and stood tall. “And I’m going to watch your six.”

Steve licked the blood-stained corners of his mouth. “Okay.”

Sighing in relief, Danny walked over. He was going to ask if he could cut those awful ropes when Steve took two steps forward and used Danny’s left shoulder for support as he tried to jump down. 

_Shit._

Steve lost his balance and slammed into him. Wrapping his arms around Steve, Danny struggled to keep them from both crashing to the ground. “Easy, easy. I got you.”

Danny went to his knees as he held Steve up. Steve leaned heavily on him until he was sitting on the ground, his breathing frayed and uneven. Jesus, the poor bastard wasn’t even wearing shoes. 

Danny worked to untie the rope around Steve’s wrists, revealing inflamed, abraded skin. Steve’s battered face was only inches away from his, and despite a beard and all the signs of violence, Danny couldn’t help noticing how ridiculously attractive his eyes were. Eyes that watched Danny’s every move until Danny finally removed the rope.

“There.” Danny held onto Steve’s wrists and, even with the barest of touches, he could feel the heat emitting from them. “That better?”

“Yeah.” Steve took a stuttering breath and swallowed. “Thank you.”

It was like Steve had burned the last remaining spark of energy to secure his freedom because he just crumpled, losing consciousness. 

“I need a medic!” Careful of Steve's head, Danny gently eased him to the ground. “I’ve got you, it’s okay, I’ve got you.”

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

Danny kept his promise and rode with Steve in the ambulance. Thankfully, he was familiar with Emmi, the young EMT who had helped Danny with a broken wrist once. 

Even semi-conscious, Steve was restless. He wouldn’t keep his arms still and jerked them away anytime the EMT tried to give him an IV.

“Damn, someone used his veins as a pincushion,” Emmi muttered.

Danny tapped Emmi on the shoulder. “This man has been drugged and held against his will for an unknown amount of time. He needs to be treated with the utmost care.”

“Yes, sir,” Emmi said. “We’ll radio ahead to the ER and inform them of the situation.”

Emmi placed an oxygen mask over Steve’s mouth and nose, but Steve tried to remove it. 

“I do not like his stats,” Emmi told Danny as he looked the BP cuff. “His vitals are all over the place.”

Danny didn’t know much about being held captive, but he knew about shock and trauma. Even the strongest person had a breaking point. Steve needed treatment.

“Hey, Steve, it’s me. Danny. I told you I’d watch your back and I will.” Danny took Steve’s hand. “Please leave the mask on. It’s just oxygen, I promise.”

Steve stared at Danny like he could peer deep inside him and figure out all his secrets. It sent a chill down his spine. 

“Okay….” Gulping for air, Steve stared at Danny until his eyes fluttered closed, his fingers going lax. Danny continued holding onto his hand.

“We’re here,” Emmi announced. 

Danny followed Steve’s gurney all the way into one of the exam curtains before he was told to wait outside. He remained within shouting distance.

* * *

There were eight dead bodies on the way to the coroner and BOLO’s out on four missing suspects. Danny’s cell phone had not stopped ringing in the last hour. The Captain was on the Big Island for some conference and wanted to meet first thing in the morning. 

Standing in the waiting room, Danny drank god-awful coffee out of a paper cup. He might have given Junior a hug when he arrived with a bottle of water and a sandwich from his favorite deli.

“You’re a godsend,” Danny said around a bite of his sub. “You even got the spicy mustard.”

“And extra pickles,” Junior added. 

Danny hummed in contentment, enjoying the food until it was time for an update. Finding a chair away from other families, Danny gestured at Junior to fill him in on the scene.

“All the vehicles are being processed. Hopefully we’ll get some useful prints or DNA.”

“Any ID on the guy guarding Steve in the U-Haul?”

“Nothing.” Junior glanced at the floor then back up at Danny. “That was a big risk you took earlier. Our vic—I mean, Steve—broke the other guy’s neck.”

“That’s impressive given the fact he was the verge of collapse.” Danny balled up his wrapper and sat back. “Good job today. Your advice was critical in helping me connect with him.”

Junior took the praise with his usual ill ease, shifting in his seat. “Well, given the expense of maintaining what could pass as a black-ops site, I figure he’s either military or has military training. I just assumed he was living on pure adrenaline and instinct.”

“Well, he’s safe and secure now. I want you to run his prints through every database imaginable. I’d like to know who we’re talking with ahead of time.”

“Any word when you think you’ll be able to speak to him?”

“Nothing.” Danny stood up and started pacing. “He’s unconscious, which might be a good thing in the long run. He was agitated on the ride over. I know they don’t want to sedate him, especially since they don’t have the results of the tox screen.” He balled up his fist and pounded it against his hip. “I promised him I’d watch his back.”

“You are.” Junior stood in front of Danny and held his gaze. “You haven't left the hospital since you got here. He needs care, and when the docs are done, you’ll be able to help him.”

“Thanks.” Danny deflated a little, fatigue settling in. “Seriously, that’s…that’s helpful.”

“Yeah, well. You’ve been telling me to work on my people skills.” Danny snorted and patted him on the shoulder. Junior pointed to a pair of chairs. “I'll sit with you, if you want. We just dumped another week’s worth of evidence at the lab. It’s going to be a while before we hear back from anyone.”

Danny stared at the doors to the examination room, feeling the need to be closer and knowing he couldn’t. “Hopefully, Steve will be able to fill in some blanks before then.”

* * *

“Detective Williams?”

Danny jumped to his feet when he heard his name. Searching the waiting room, he spotted a familiar face. Junior stood up beside him. Danny patted his arm, gesturing at the physician approaching them.

Dr. Noelani Cunha had worked with his team on several cases and they had gotten to know each other over the last few years. She led them to a corner of the room. “Detective, is there anything you can fill me in on regarding my new patient? I was informed he was a victim of a kidnapping?”

“Yes. Probable drugging and possible torture.” Danny grimaced, thinking back to the scene. “We’re unsure of the details.”

“Do you know what type of drugs?”

“The lab identified Scopolamine, but there were at least two other unidentified substances collected from broken vials and IV tubing,” Junior informed her. “We’re still waiting.”

Noelani’s eyes widened, but her demeanor remained professional. “Okay. That’s helpful. I’m still waiting on a tox screen before giving him anything for the pain, although at this rate, that might prove a challenge.”

“How so?” Danny asked.

“He’s altered. Either from drug intoxication or a head injury. I’m leaning toward a combination of both.”

“Altered?” Junior furrowed his brow. “As in –”

“A confused state.” She looked between them. “He’s not tracking well and he’s very stressed.”

Junior looked down the hall. “Is he a danger to your staff?”

“I have not called security, but I fear he might be a danger to himself. I was hoping you had more information before I made a decision about how to proceed in treating him.”

“Let me talk to him,” Danny said. 

“Sir,” Junior warned.

“I got through to him at the scene. Convinced him to get out of the truck. Let me see if I can help.” Danny knew he’d been able to get through to their victim, laying down the tiniest foundation of trust. And that was vital in cases like this.

Noelani seemed hesitant, but Danny was insistent. “It’s worth a shot. He’s obviously been through hell.”

“Okay, I’ll give you a few minutes,” Noelani relented. “We have him a private room set aside for victims of trauma. I want to start treatment as soon as he allows us to touch him.”

Danny started walking toward the room when Junior stepped in front of him. “Sir. This man killed someone just a couple of hours ago. You should use caution.”

“He killed a man who had him tied up like an animal,” Danny growled. Taking a deep breath, he reigned in his anger and patted Junior on the shoulder. “Besides, you’re going in with me.”

Junior looked insulted. “Like I was waiting for permission.”

* * *

Danny walked inside the room and froze. A male nurse was on one side of the gurney with his hands out in placating matter. “Please, sir, if you would just sit back down.”

Their victim was the epitome of a cornered animal. _The man’s name is Steve_, Danny reminded himself. 

Blood ran down the length of Steve’s arm from where he must have ripped out an IV. His chest was a myriad of bruises and pink marks, and sweat ran down his face. He gripped the gurney railing with one hand while attempting to put on his dirty cargo pants with the other.

It was a losing battle. 

“Where are the rest of his clothes?” Danny asked. Based on the glimpses of his bare hips, Steve wasn’t wearing anything else. At least the gurney shielded him for the most part.

“The rest were bagged for evidence,” Noelani answered. “He was wearing a gown when we took him for his CT and X-rays. I have no idea where he found his cargoes.”

Steve jerked his head in her direction, nostrils flaring. 

“We’re just here to help you,” she said. Noelani frowned, obviously upset for not being able to gain her patient’s trust.

Danny mirrored the male nurse and raised his hands in the air. “Steve? Do you remember me?”

Steve breathed heavily, squinting at Danny as he struggled to put one leg through his cargos.

“It’s Danny. I found your message. Remember?”

“Danny?” Steve leaned more against the side of the gurney, his left arm trembling with the effort.

Licking his lips, Danny nodded at him. “Yeah. Look, I know you’re hurting. But no one should be wandering around without some pants. Or are you just trying to show off?”

“Show off?”

“Your manly physique.” Based on the definition of Steve’s muscles, Danny started recalculating the length of his captivity. 

Steve glanced down at his himself then back up at Danny, his brow furrowed. “I want my clothes.”

“We can get you some new ones. Because to be honest, those pants need to be burned.” Danny looked at the nurse. “Could we get him something?”

“Yeah. Hold on.”

Still leaning against the side of the gurney, Steve watched the nurse like a hawk. He kept blinking like he was trying to clear his vision and it looked like a gust of wind could knock him over. But Danny had no doubt that if anyone moved the wrong way, Steve would react with force.

The nurse pulled out some scrubs out of a drawer and handed them to Danny before taking a few steps back to stand next to Junior, who had been watching Steve’s every move.

Danny held up the scrubs. “These are probably a lot more comfortable.”

Steve’s scanned each person in the room then at the door leading out. One side of his face was more swollen than the other; Danny wasn’t even sure how he could see out of that eye. 

Based on fast Steve’s chest was heaving, his pulse had to be racing. Noelani looked as anxious as her patient. Not a good sign. Danny knew he needed to establish control. 

“I have no idea what you went through and I know you’re in a strange place and all you want to do is bolt. But, you’ll probably fall flat on your face and I doubt it could take much more abuse, don’t ya think?”

Steve blinked at him.

“It’s just pants.” Danny held them up higher. “I mean, unless you want to try to wander commando.”

“You’re not…you’re not going to take me back…?”

Danny’s chest ached at the quiver in Steve’s voice. “No, I’m not. Look at me. You’re safe. I promised you that I was going to watch your six and I will. And right now, you need some help. I won’t leave, okay? I’ll stay here and make sure no one does anything they shouldn’t. Because these people,” Danny pointed at Noelani and the nurse, “they just want to make sure you’re feeling better.”

Danny took a step closer, still holding up the scrub bottoms. “But right now, let’s just get you into something clean.”

Steve stared at Danny’s hands then back up to his face, the muscles in his throat moving as he swallowed. He dropped the death grip on his cargo pants. Danny’s expression remained neutral. 

“We’ll do this one step at a time.” As casually as possible, Danny walked over with the scrubs. Clenching his jaw at the fresh and days-old bruising up and down Steve’s flank, Danny stopped by the foot of the gurney. “However you want to do this.”

Steve trembled from the strain of standing. Now that Danny was up close, he noticed that Steve guarded his right shoulder. He quickly shifted gears. “Here. Lean on me and I’ll hold these out.”

Releasing his hold on the railing, Steve limped over and latched onto Danny’s arm with his left hand. Bending far enough down, Danny held the scrubs while Steve struggled, but valiantly pulled them up and over his legs.

“Okay, now let’s move over to the bed,” Danny suggested.

Steve’s whole body stiffened at the suggestion, but Danny straightened into a standing position. He wrapped one arm around Steve’s sweat-slicked back. It was like touching a live wire, making all the hair along Danny’s neck stand up. It took several moments to gain control over his voice. 

“We’re here to help.”

Steve’s face was only inches from Danny’s. The last time he’d seen such large pupils, Danny had almost been gutted by knife-wielding perp who was high as a kite. Danny didn’t fear that from the man beside him. In fact, he felt the opposite of fear. 

He cleared his throat. “Come on, I promise. I haven’t lied to you once.”

With an awful groan, Steve sat on the side of the gurney, his face paling with the motion. The nurse started forward to help, but Danny waved him off. “Let gravity work, buddy. I’ll grab your legs.”

Steve leaned back against the gurney as Danny swung his long limbs onto the rest of the bed. Wrapping his arms around himself, Steve grunted as he lay vertically, his face tight with the pain he’d been trying hard to conceal.

Noelani stepped forward, glancing at Danny then at her patient. “I would like to re-start an IV if I could.”

“No,” Steve grit out, squeezing his eyes closed. “No more drugs.”

“It’s just saline,” Noelani said, holding up the bag. “And later, when you’re settled, if I think you need antibiotics or other medications, I’ll ask your permission first.”

Opening the eye with the least swelling, Steve looked at Noelani with exhausted weariness. “I can’t tell you…what I don’t…know,” he muttered. 

Junior and Noelani shared a look of confusion with Danny.

With a frown, Noelani inserted the IV into the crook of Steve’s arm, resting her hand on the pulse point of his wrist. “All I want to do it help.” Looking over at Danny, she nodded. “Thank you. I think we have it from here.”

Steve turned his head in Danny’s direction.

Pulling a chair from the corner of the room, Danny sat down. “Like I said, I’m not going anywhere.”

Looking over at the gurney, he noticed Steve watching him, not with apprehension, but with something akin to gratitude and something else that Danny couldn’t pinpoint.

* * *

Danny kept tabs on the case through texts. It wasn’t the most efficient way of overseeing an investigation, but he kept his promises. He followed the tedious progress from the labs as Noelani managed to get her patient’s arm into a BP cuff and attach EKG leads to his chest. And Danny coordinated with HPD about clearing the scene of the ambush so they could re-open the road to traffic as their patient slipped into a restless sleep.

He looked up from his phone when Junior walked inside. His partner gave the gurney a wide berth. Danny stood to meet him.

“Sir.” Junior glanced at the gurney then back at his boss. He sighed. “Do you want the bad news or the very bad news?”

_Neither_, Danny thought. “Both.”

“Tani ran our vic’s prints, but so far, we’ve got nothing. No criminal record or weapons’ permits.”

“No criminal record. I buy that. But there is no way this guy doesn’t own a personal firearm.” Danny rubbed his face. “What about government or military?”

“Still waiting.”

“And the very bad news?”

“HPD found two bodies in a shallow grave behind the cleaners. The coroner is on the scene right now to collect them.”

Danny ran his hands through his hair. “Estimated time of death?”

“In the last 48 hours. Probably same time the cleaners were abandoned.” Junior cleared his throat. “What about here?”

“He passed out soon after you left.”

“You weren’t able to talk to him?”

“Not yet. I’m hoping once Noelani returns she’ll give us an ETA when we can.”

“I admire that you stuck around. Keeping your word.”

“Yeah, well, what the hell is my word worth if I don’t stand by it?” Danny watched Noelani return. He patted Junior on the arm. “Maybe we’ll get some answers.”

Noelani met them in the corner, carrying a mini iPad. “I thought I would bring you up to speed on things.”

“How is he?” Danny asked.

“A walking enigma,” Noelani said in bewilderment. She scrolled through her notes. “We’ve had the same type of luck as your lab, which is to say not much at all. His blood work returned with a high level of unspecified barbiturates, not to mention a combination of depressants, stimulants, and ataraxice.”

“He had a pharmacy in his system this whole time?” Danny looked over at the gurney in awe. 

“Like I said, he’s an enigma. He’s got a low-grade fever, which I attribute to drugs or an infection from the abrasions to his wrists and ankles. Not to mention possible infection from the burns to his torso.”

Junior stiffened, but he didn’t say a word.

A furor stirred inside Danny’s chest. He grit his teeth. “They burned him?” _Is that what caused those marks he’d seen earlier?_

“From multiple tasers. The bastards at least stayed away from his heart, but we’re going to keep him on the EKG until he doesn’t exhibit any more signs of tachycardia.” She continued going through her notes, stoic and professional. “Based on x-rays, he’s been beaten several times. He has two fractured ribs, bruised kidneys which are several days into healing. Not to mention strained AC ligaments from some type of shoulder injury.” 

Biting her lip, Noelani released a heavy breath, her voice reflecting the anger she’d kept in control. “Did you get the people responsible for this?”

“Not yet,” Junior spoke up, but his voice held an unspoken promise. It was very uncharacteristic of him. “In fact, we really need to ask him some questions.”

“Not until tomorrow morning at the earliest.”

Danny shook his head. “Noelani –”

“His blood work is a drug cocktail. He needs fluids and rest. I appreciate all the help you did in calming him down, I really do. But I will not allow you to upset him with questions.” She rested her iPad against her hip. “I imagine he’s been subjected to enough for a lifetime.”

Knowing she was right, Danny nodded in frustration. “All right. I’ll be back first thing in the morning.”

Taking his cue, Danny walked past the gurney with Junior beside him. Opening the door to walk out, Danny remained a moment, lingering, watching Steve’s chest rise and fall several times, before finally leaving.

As they rounded the corner, he pulled out his cell phone.

“Who are you calling?” Junior asked. 

“Duke. I want guards posted outside the room. The people who took him had a lot of firepower and resources. I don’t want to risk making him a target.”

“Not to mention risking a midnight escape.”

“Based on Noelani’s assessment, I doubt he’d get far. On the other hand….”

“Our vic is an enigma.” This time Junior’s voice was tinged with admiration.

Danny sighed. “He certainly is.”

* * *

If Danny stood any straighter his spine might snap. He remained quiet while the Captain read his case notes after he’d briefed her verbally. 

Removing her glasses, Captain Jameson pinched the bridge of her nose. “We have two unidentified DBs and an additional six bodies in the morgue. There are four suspects in the wind as a result of a shootout under the Pali Highway. A shootout, by the way, that resulted in a partial shut-down for over six hours with over a hundred phone complaints.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You mobilized an entire SWAT Team at the cost of thousands of dollars in equipment and manpower, not to mention, you reassigned _the entire crime lab_ to work on your mountain of evidence, pissing off everyone in Major Crimes to high heaven.” Jameson leaned back in her chair. “And you don’t have a single suspect in custody.”

“As of right now. The case is ongoing.”

“And you haven’t questioned the only witness yet?”

“He’s not cleared for questioning given the drugs and head injuries sustained from, you know, probably torture.”

“Detective Williams, I am not insensitive to the situation.” Jameson glared at him before releasing a heavy breath. “I need a drink.”

“I won’t tell anyone about your stash of whiskey if you want to share.”

She chuckled softly and shook her head. “Look, Danny. I’m the one who recruited you to start the Special Activities Division. We need a team with your tenacity to handle some of the island’s most difficult crimes. But I can’t afford any more dead bodies.” _And bad press_ went unsaid. “You need to make some headway before I have no choice but to allow the FBI to take over.”

Danny bristled. When did the Feds begin sniffing around? “This case is only 48 hours old.”

“And it’s an enormous one involving multiple felonies and suspects. The amount of money and time will probably be staggering. If you want this case all to yourself, give me something by Friday and I’ll keep the Feds off your back.”

It was Wednesday. Jesus. He knew this was all political. Jameson planned to run for the Chief of Police next year. She only cared about the headlines nowadays.

Danny looked at the ceiling, counting backwards from ten to keep from saying something that would require disciplinary action. “I need more resources.”

“I’ll authorize overtime for the crime lab.”

She’d thrown him a bone. “Thank you, Captain.”

“Find me some suspects, Detective.”

* * *

Danny paced in front of the conference table trying to ignore a vicious case of heartburn. He hadn’t suffered a flare-up in ages. Not since…no, he wasn’t going there.

“All the SUVS were rentals and all the IDs used in the paperwork were fake?” Danny waved his hand in front of Tani and Junior. “And the lab has collected hundreds of prints from the cleaners, but not even one has been identified?”

“No one who has a criminal record,” Junior said. “We’re still waiting on the Bureau of Tobacco and Firearms.”

“And the two DBs discovered behind the cleaners?”

This time Tani was brave enough to give him more bad news. “Both were shot in the head. But Mindy says each victim had other injuries. One was stabbed several times in the shoulder and the other had a broken ankle.”

“Both were liabilities,” Junior said. 

Damn it. There was only one person who could tell them what the hell actually happened–or was there? He rubbed at his sternum. 

Danny turned in a big circle before waving his hand between Tani and Junior. “Where’s Lou?”

Junior looked down at the floor and Tani averted his gaze.

“Anyone?”

“He’s, um, trying to track down his CI.” Junior looked braced for an explosion.

The only thing exploding was inside his chest. Holding a finger in the air, Danny bit down on an impending rant. “We need answers and we need them yesterday.”

* * *

Ducking into his office did little to alleviate his annoyance. Burying his face in his hands, Danny took a stuttering breath. He had to get it together. Snapping at his team would not get faster results. He rubbed his fingers along his nose until they slid down his jaw. When he looked up, he saw Tani standing in front of his chair.

“You ever hear of knocking?” 

“Yeah, I have.” Tani walked around the side of his desk and handed Danny a roll of Tums. “Figure you needed these.”

He took the offered antacid and chewed them. “Thanks. How did you…?”

“After the last year, I’ve noticed the signs.”

“I’m glad I’m that easy to read,” he grumbled.

“Like a Harlequin novel.” Tani’s teasing smile faded. “Seriously though. This case has really gotten to you. You even stayed with the victim for over four hours.”

“You’ll learn that it can take time to build trust with people.”

“Uh-hmm. He’s also very intriguing.”

Danny would not be baited. Tani had picked up on the fact that Danny admired men and women during their first week working together. He hadn’t acted on either in a long time. 

“He’s a victim of felony assault among other things. Not to mention a person of interest in two other deaths.”

Tani quirked an eyebrow. “Very true. Still doesn’t make the circumstances surrounding him any less mysterious.”

Danny wasn’t going to admit that out loud. Wasn’t going to ponder why his thoughts drifted back to the moment he saw Steve in the back of the U-Haul or at the hospital when Steve was ready to bolt, clothes be damned. Not what he looked like without said clothes. His cheeks flushed.

No, he had a job to do. They all did. “I’d rather have more answers.”

Tani wasn’t done fishing, he could tell, but she was a savvy woman. She knew when to back off. “Well, Junes and I will keep working to find some.”

When the door closed behind her, Danny peeled the wrapper off the tablets of antacid and ate two more.

* * *

Burning the midnight oil only made his heartburn worse. Not discovering a single lead made Danny want to drown in a vat of Pepto Bismol. Instead he finished the roll of Tums and went home and allowed Eddie to curl up with him on the sofa.

Eddie nuzzled and licked Danny’s face, his tail wagging. “Thanks, buddy. But I don’t even think you’ll be able to help me tonight.”

Eddie must have taken it as a challenge and lay his head on Danny’s lap. “How am I supposed to crack this case if I can’t find a single clue?”

His companion started licking his hand. “Yes, I know I’ll get some leads tomorrow after I talk to Steve. But I’m a detective; I’m supposed to be helping him, not depending on him.” He rubbed the soft spot behind Eddie’ ears. “I can’t go in there, look him in the eyes and tell him, sorry pal, but the people that beat you to a pulp? Who burned you? Yep, I’ve got nothing, so could you do me a big favor and break the case? Thanks.”

Eddie made a low whining sound. Sighing, Danny kissed the top of his head. “Yeah, I know. Sucks to be me.”

* * *

_Danny was sitting on a cot inside a tiny dark room, the only source of light from a tiny bulb from the ceiling. He looked around for a door to escape, but there wasn’t one. He was trapped, and the walls were closing in on him._

_“No!” he screamed, closing his eyes against the panic. _

_Pulse racing, he opened his eyes again, but this time the room had doubled in size and Steve was standing at the other end. He wore nothing but a pair of black cargo pants. Sweat trailed over the planes of his chest, down the defined muscles of his abdomen, spreading toward his naval. _

_Danny scooted to the edge of the cot in anticipation. “God, yes.”_

Sucking in a breath, Danny bolted up in bed, chest heaving, dawning-reality chasing away the vestiges of his dream.

Wiping the sweat from his face, he took another shuddering breath. He looked down at his hard-on tenting his boxers. “I do not need this shit.”

He looked at the clock on his night stand, noting the time. It was four in the morning. Knowing he wouldn’t get much more sleep, Danny pushed back the rest of the sheets and headed for the shower.

* * *

Danny picked Junior up on his way to the hospital, his partner handing him a protein bar when he took the passenger seat.

“I ate breakfast.”

“Not a good one.”

Ignoring him, Danny drove them to Tripler and parked the car. He didn’t get out right away, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. 

“You okay?” Junior asked him. 

“I hate interviewing victims, forcing them to relive the worst moments of their lives.” Danny swallowed in memory, his chest aching as Chin asked him questions he’d rather do anything else than answer. He turned in his seat to face the young man he’d chosen to mentor. “I know you’ve seen and witnessed horrible things, but when it comes to victim interviews, you have to be compassionate while remaining detached enough to do your job. You can’t help a vic if you’re following your heart.”

“Yes, sir.” Junior sat straighter in his seat. “And I’ll be there if you need a reminder.”

* * *

Noelani was a pit bull when it came to her patients, and Danny always admired her resolve. Except when it came to solving a case.

She stood there like the Great Wall. “You guys need to come back tomorrow.”

“I’m sorry, we can’t.” Danny peered over her shoulders. “We have to interview him.”

“Tomorrow.”

Danny felt his heartburn returning. 

“I’m sorry, Doctor, is there a medical reason why we can’t interview the patient?” Junior asked, intervening.

“He’s having withdrawal symptoms from being weaned off whatever drugs he’s been given. And against my better judgment, I administered a very mild sedative to help him through the ordeal.” Noelani sighed. “Yes, for his health, I’d rather you’d wait. He’s not going anywhere.”

“Except the longer we wait to question him, the less he might remember about his ordeal. And we need his account to help us track down the bastards who put him here.” Noelani was about to argue, but Danny pressed his point. “If we don’t interview him, then this kicks to the FBI. Do you think they’ll for one moment treat him any other way than a means to an end? You know us. You know we’ll do right by him.”

Noelani stared at him for several seconds, long enough for Danny to fidget slightly under the weight of her assessment. Finally, she closed her eyes and took a slow breath. 

“Okay,” she nodded, opening her eyes to measure Danny once more. “But only because I know finding these people will help with his long-term recovery.”

* * *

Danny acknowledged the guard in front of the door before walking inside. An orderly was pushing a cart to the side. Danny noticed the untouched eggs and applesauce, the napkins, and the spoon. The fork was missing.

Junior noticed it too, lifting his eyebrows at Danny, both communicating the observation silently. 

The head of the bed was raised just enough for Steve to be sitting up. EKG leads snaked out from under his hospital gown, and he clutched a pillow to his chest, watching them with laser focus. 

“Hey, Steve. Do you remember me from the other day?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. I’m –”

“Danny.”

“Yeah.” Danny smiled at the recognition. “And this is my partner, Junior.” 

Junior remained behind Danny, nodding, allowing him to take the lead. “I was wondering if we could ask you a few questions.”

Steve’s eyes went from Danny to Junior to the door. “Why are there guards outside?”

Oh shit. Maybe he should have mentioned that. 

“They’re for your protection.”

Steve sat up straighter. He broadcast suspicion in furious waves. 

Danny had made a terrible mistake. He had seconds to recover. “We found you in the back of a U-Haul with a dude whose neck you snapped, surrounded by almost a dozen bad guys who had no problem shooting at cops. I’d be very bad at my job if I left you here unprotected.” He held his head up high. “Especially after I gave you my word.”

Some of the swelling had come down on the right side of Steve’s face; he was watching Danny. It must have taken a lot of energy to use that much focus. He still hadn’t spoken another word.

“Let’s start with some basics.” Danny cleared his throat. “Your first name is Steve. What is your last name?”

Steve squinted at Danny, his gaze straying toward the wall, his hands squeezing the pillow against his chest. 

“Okay. Where are you from? Do you live on the islands?”

Steve looked like he was a million miles away. Danny wondered about the sedative. 

“What’s your date of birth?”

A tremor ran through Steve’s arms. He grunted, clutching the pillow against his busted ribs.

Danny looked at Junior, whose body had tensed. Danny shook his head at him, warning him to back off. There wasn’t an impending attack. 

“What’s your favorite color?” Danny asked, changing tactics. 

“Blue?” Steve sucked in a breath and glanced at Danny like he couldn’t believe his words. “Is it blue?”

A sense of dread formed a pit in Danny’s stomach at the amount of uncertainty in Steve’s tone.

“And what’s your last name again?” Danny asked. 

Nothing.

“And your address?”

Still nothing.

“Do you know who abducted you, Steve?”

Squeezing his eyes closed, Steve bent over his pillow, his face graying. 

Junior grabbed a nearby emesis bowl, looking between Steve and Danny in concern. Danny was tempted to take it for himself. God, he hated himself. 

“Do you know what they wanted?”

“No,” Steve said through gritted teeth.

“What about their names, or descriptions?”

“No.”

A burning sensation bubbled up Danny’s esophagus. “What’s your last name, Steve?”

“I don’t know!” Body shaking, Steve stared at Danny with panic-filled eyes, his voice cracking. “God. I don’t know.” Moisture trailed down his battered face. “Fuck.”

Steve went deathly pale. Danny grabbed the emesis bowl from Junior’s hands and held it front of Steve as he dry-heaved. It lasted a whole minute before Steve leaned back, totally spent. 

Junior removed the bowl and Danny tentatively rested a hand on Steve’s shoulder. 

“It’s okay, I promise, it’ll be okay.”

Steve’s body trembled. “What the hell is wrong with me?”

Danny fumbled for the right words, finding all of them inadequate. He took Steve’s hand and held it tight. “I’m not sure, but I’ll help you figure it out, okay?”

Steve had a fork hidden by his right side; Danny could make out the impression from under the sheet. It was such a jarring juxtaposition to the man trembling in front of him. 

Steve stared at Danny like a lifeline, the strength of his grip almost crushing Danny’s fingers.

“I’m going to help you figure things out. I promise,” Danny said with all his heart. “And I won’t stop until I do.”

* * *

Danny stood in the back of the room, arms crossed over his chest as Noelani talked to her patient. 

“Have you ever experienced this with a victim before?” Junior asked. 

“No. I mean, sometimes people can’t recall details of a crime. They block the trauma from their minds.”

“But not in this situation. This is different.”

Danny narrowed his eyes at Junior. “Do you have something to add?”

“This case has been unique from the start. Evidence of drugging, beatings, a professional prisoner transport.” Junior swallowed. “This was someone’s asset and they went through a lot of trouble and expense to gain something from him. We might be in over our heads.”

Danny’s nostrils flared in irritation. “This is _ our_ case.”

“I know. But should it be?”

Noelani walked over before Danny could answer the question. “What’s the word?”

“Given his recent head injury and ongoing detox, I can’t conduct a proper cognitive or neurological exam.” Danny growled in frustration, but Noelani was undaunted. “I’m calling for a consult with a colleague of mine who specializes in neurology and who might have the right background for this type of case. He’ll go over Steve’s MRI and CT results and probably order an electroencephalogram to check for the presence of seizure activity.”

It was like hitting a brick wall. Danny rubbed at his temple. “So, we don’t have anything?” 

“It’s too early to tell if this is temporary or not. And to be honest, given the number of drugs in his system…” Noelani frowned, her frustration bleeding into her normal calm persona. “It’d help if we knew how long he’d been held, how often he’d been drugged. Maybe if we knew that…”

“You know, I’m right here. I can hear you talking about me like I’m not.”

Despite looking like he’d gone ten rounds with King Kong, Steve exuded the prickliness of someone searching for a fight. His glare was smoldering despite coming from behind two black eyes. The man might have been recovering from trauma, but he did not like being sidelined.

“You’re right, we were,” Danny admitted, knowing how that would tick him off if their roles were reversed. “I apologize.” 

He walked over and stood on the right side of the gurney to talk to Steve eye-to-eye. Gone were the tears. They’d been replaced by a hard exterior. For a chilling moment, Danny imagined such defiance during a brutal interrogation. 

“Dr. Noelani still has tests she has to perform. And Junior and I are still conducting our investigation.”

For the first time, Steve looked over at Junior, studying him before returning his focus to Danny. His eyes still had a bit of glazed-over look to them. “You’re both cops.”

“The Hawaiian Police Department,” Danny said. 

“I’m in _Hawaii_?”

Danny was a detective; it was instinct to study micro expressions when speaking to witnesses. Knowing human behavior was part of the job. Steve looked, well, he looked…lost. “Yeah, Oahu to be exact.” 

“And you’re in charge of my…_my case_?”

“We might be cops, but my team is actually part of the Special Activities Division. We have more resources and leeway.”

Steve cracked a ghost of a smile. “You’re the head of SAD?”

Junior snickered behind him. Danny turned around and pointed a finger. “What did I say about those jokes?”

“Hey, it wasn’t me.” 

Grumbling under his breath, Danny turned his attention back to his witness, noticing how even a partial smile lit up Steve’s battered face. “You know for someone who was supposedly given something to relax, you’re a real laugh riot.”

“Well, when you’ve been pumped-up with enough drugs, a little Valium is nothing.” 

As soon as the words left his mouth, Steve’s whole body tensed, his eyes darted back and forth rapidly around the room. 

“Can you describe any of the people who drugged you?” Danny asked. 

“No.”

“Were they Caucasian? Asian? Black?”

“I don’t....”

“How did you escape, Steve?” Danny watched for any sign or recognition. “How did you know the layout of the cleaners?”

“I said I don’t know!” Steve pushed up with his hands, grunting. “How many times do I have to keep repeating myself? You want to hurt your hand some more? Go ahead!”

Noelani was about to intervene, but Junior beat her to it. 

“It’s okay,” Junior said in a soothing tone. “We’re all good. We’re in a hospital. You’re safe, remember?”

Steve’s head jerked in the direction of Junior’s voice. Panting, he seemed to come back to himself and settled against the gurney, blinking. “Yeah.” He wiped the sweat off his face. “I’m…I’m sorry.”

“It’s all good, man.” Junior kept his manner easy going. “But you’re here, you’re regrouping. Yeah?”

Maybe it was a little too soothing. 

“I want to know what happened to me.” Steve breathed hard through his nose, anger lacing his voice. “I want to know who I am.”

“We do too, man.” Junior squared his shoulders. “Detective Williams and I, our whole team. We’re on it.”

“Yeah?” Steve said in challenge. His arms started trembling again, but his voice, his whole being demanded attention. Respect. “The leaders of SAD are on it, huh?”

“Yeah, we are,” Danny said. His team was the fucking best. He didn’t need to say the words; he’d prove it.

Steve looked from Junior to Danny then nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer. 

Danny exhaled and tried regrouping himself. “Well, this was a good first step. And if you don’t mind, we might return later. See if we can talk again?” 

“You mean if I remember anything?” 

“That too.”

“Yeah, I’d be fine with that.”

Steve managed a drawl to his voice despite being half-dead. Danny was impressed. And the man didn’t stop watching Danny, making his skin itch. 

A long stretch of silence fell. Junior cleared his throat and Danny broke eye contact with Steve. 

Noelani walked with them toward the door. “If my colleague can come down today, I’ll let you know what he has to say.”

“I’d prefer to meet with him,” Danny told her.

“I’ll try to make the arrangements.”

Junior leaned into Danny’s ear. “What about the fork?”

“We’ll let him keep it. Give him a sense of security.”

Junior expression said clearly that he didn’t agree with Danny’s assessment, but he was fine with that. The members of SAD had a job to do.


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

After a full twenty-four hours of searching for answers, some finally started to appear. Even if they were not the ones Danny had hoped for.

Eric was wide-eyed from caffeine and long hours. “Dude, there was like a virtual drug store from a mad scientist collected at that scene. I had to test every vial to figure out what they were because they only had white labels with numbers on them.”

“And your conclusions?” Danny didn’t have time to dawdle. 

“Name your barbiturate or tranquilizer. Sodium amytal, Valium, Pentobarbital, Ativan. Then a nice mix of amphetamines, and to top it all off, some Ecstasy. Pure stuff, too.”

“Eric.”

“But most of it was a lot of Scopolamine. I mean, like, cases of it.”

All these chemicals for one man. 

Tani had entered the room during Eric’s report, watching and listening. Danny looked to her in hope. “Please tell me you have something that will help identify our victim or any of the suspects?”

“Sorry, Boss. I got a big fat zero. Nothing off his prints from all government records. Nothing military or federal. And the ATF doesn’t have any weapons’ permits.”

“It doesn’t make sense.”

Tani was competitive and busted her ass on every case. She was obviously just as frustrated by their lack of progress as the rest of them, biting her bottom lip. “He really doesn’t remember what happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Maybe it’s temporary, you know. And once he starts healing, then maybe the rest of him will, too.”

“Yeah, and in the meantime?” Danny started pacing. They’d run DNA and prints. If this were a missing person’s case.... He snapped his fingers. “His tats. Maybe…I need to take some good pics. Send them out to local artists who might be able to ID them.”

“I might know a guy or two my brother uses,” Tani offered.

Yeah, this was good. Patting down his pockets in search for his keys, he noticed his phone vibrating. “Williams.”

_“Danny, man.”_

“Lou, where the hell –

_“I’m on Maui.”_

“You’re where?”

_“My CI tried to make a run for it by booking a ticket out of Kahului airport.”_

“You went to Maui?” Danny did not want to look at that expense report.

_“Look. You’re right, man.” Lou huffed into the phone. “If he’s trying to flee to the mainland by island hopping? It means he’s scared, which means—” _

“He’s probably got answers. All right. You arrest him and haul his ass back here.”

_“On it..”_

Shutting his phone closed, he nodded at Tani. “Do you want to come with me to the hospital?”

Tani had her face pressed close to her phone. “No, you go. Junes said he thinks he’s onto something.”

Danny looked around, noticing his partner had gone off somewhere. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Tani looked up with glee in her eyes. “You know those cleaners didn’t have a kitchen. And there were how many people working there?”

“They had to eat.”

Tani beamed. “Yeah, they did.”

* * *

Danny carried the camera bag over his shoulder as he walked through Tripler. Part of him rehearsed how he’d approach Steve about the pictures. Lord knew he hated having his photo taken; it felt intrusive. Danny needed to handle this with sensitivity.

Rounding the corner, he almost crashed into Noelani. 

“Detective. Jeesh.” She placed a hand over her heart. After catching her breath from the surprise, she tugged on his sleeve. “Actually, I’m glad we ran into each other. Come with me.”

“What?” Bewildered by her sudden reaction, he followed Noelani into a stairwell. 

They went up two flights of stairs then into another hallway toward an office. 

Noelani knocked on a door, waving him over. “My colleague has special privileges here. He has a tiny office when he does research. We only have a small window of time.”

Before he could demand to know what was going on, a short guy in his thirties opened the door and peered at Noelani through his glasses. “Ah. Dr. Cunha. You are twenty minutes early.”

“My apologies. But Detective Williams is in charge of the case you’re reviewing, and I thought it important that he sit in on your initial report.”

“It is customary to arrive at the agreed upon time,” the man replied.

“It is,” Noelani conceded. “I was hoping you could make this an exception given the circumstances?”

Noelani nudged Danny in the side and he tried to get with the program. “Yes, if you wouldn’t mind?”

Why the hell were they indulging this guy? This was a felony kidnapping.

The other man took several moments to ponder the request. “Very well. This is indeed an intriguing case.”

Danny stared at Noelani. She put her finger to her lips. He did not appreciate being shushed, but he obliged, and entered an office made up of overflowing bookshelves.

“Detective Danny Williams, this Dr. Max Bergman. He’s a neurologist with a specialty in pharmaceutical research.”

“My specialty is actually in neuropathology and forensic pathology.” Bergman took a seat behind his desk. “But my work does cross paths in pharmaceutical R&D.” 

“Okay, those were a lot of big words.” Danny wasn’t into people who paraded around their fancy degrees. “Hopefully they mean you have some answers regarding the case I’m working on.”

Bergman nodded. “Yes, Patient 16276. Very captivating.”

“His name is Steve,” Danny said more tersely than intended. “Do you have some insight on his medical condition?”

“I was told you were already updated regarding his x-rays; the physical trauma is pretty cut and dry.”

“Yeah, I have eyes. I’m talking about the swimming pool of drugs in his system. Did you get his hair samples back?”

“I did.”

Thank goodness for small favors. Now they were getting somewhere. They could use those to figure out a much longer history of drug use. “Could you tell me what type of impact it could be having on his memory?”

“Based on my tests, he was given a significant amount of barbiturates. As you know, any small doses of a sedative can reduce anxiety. In larger doses like the ones given to Dr. Noelani’s patient, a barbiturate can act like an anesthetic.”

“An anesthetic?” Danny hadn’t been expecting that answer. “They were trying to keep him unconscious?”

“Very doubtful,” Bergman said.

Danny wanted to throw something. “What would be the purpose of giving someone such high levels of barbiturates?”

“That would require me to speculate.”

“By all means, speculate. Because right now, I’m grasping at straws.”

“High levels of barbiturates are only used on patients to remove the patient's awareness of his own consciousness during surgery.” 

“Awareness of conscious.” Danny couldn’t believe the type of conversation he was having. “You mean memory?”

Bergman nose wrinkled. “That is _what I said._”

Danny felt his blood pressure increase.

Noelani touched Danny’s arm. “An anesthetized patient usually does not have a conscious recollection of surgery. It’s a very powerful drug and we still do not know much about it.”

“Patient 16276 –forgive me. Steve not only had barbiturates in his body, but a large amount of Scopolamine.” Bergman rested both hands on his desk, his expression troubled. “I’d daresay he had enough over a prolonged amount of time to trigger a drug-induced coma if it were not for the level of stimulants and psychoactive drugs that were also in his system.”

Danny’s temple throbbed. “You’re giving me a headache.”

“Do you need an aspirin?” Bergman asked in concern.

“No, I need you to talk to me in English. Were you able to determine how long ago he was abducted?”

“I can only postulate as to when the first drug was administered. Based on the length of the hair follicles, I’d say anywhere from two to four weeks ago.”

“Two to four weeks…” Danny stared at the floor. “To what end?”

“Such a combination of drugs and physical abuse is normally used in interrogations to weaken an individual and manipulate a person's mental state to gain information or force a desired behavior.”

Danny bit his tongue. He knew the definition of torture, but he wanted to know why Steve had endured such a horrific ordeal. Who the hell was he? “Could being drugged for so long be responsible for his current amnesia?”

Bergman took a moment before answering. “General anesthesia is meant to create a loss of memory, leading to a complete inability to recall the recent past, while long-term memories from before the event should remain intact.”

“But Steve doesn’t know his last name or where he lives or–”

“There isn’t enough data to form a hypothesis regarding the type of amnesia at this time. Especially since, as we’ve discussed, there were other stimulants and psychoactive drugs involved. The patient still needs to undergo a battery of cognitive and neurological tests, and it is my understanding that he isn’t well enough to be interviewed yet.”

“Wait.” Danny couldn’t believe his ears. “You haven’t interviewed or examined him?”

Bergman screwed up his face. “Oh, no. I do not interact with actual patients. I prefer analyzing lab results and written tests.”

Danny’s cheeks flushed red. This was a man’s life on the line. Before he could wrap his hands around Bergman’s neck, Noelani began ushering Danny out the door. “Thank you, Dr. Bergman, for your time. I’ll be in touch very soon.”

* * *

Once Noelani got Danny into the hallway, she placed a hand on his arm. “My apologies, Max can be very…eccentric. But he is the best person for this case.”

“You could have fooled me.”

“In real life, there are few instances of amnesia that involve the loss of personal identity. Our personal identity is lodged in the medial temporal lobe. It is close to the midline of the brain, and that means it is rarely impacted by external structural damage.”

“It’s probably the result of psychological trauma.”

“That type of amnesia causes a person to block out the events leading to the trauma, not long-term memory.” Noelani shook her head. “The whole idea of a person waking up with no idea of who they are is a Hollywood thing. It just doesn’t happen like that. Not without physical damage to the brain.”

“I don’t think he’s faking it.” 

“Neither do I. But we’re in uncharted waters here. If his amnesia is pharmaceutical in nature, Max is our best shot at figuring it out.”

Based on first impressions, Danny wasn’t so sure about that. “And if it he can’t?”

Noelani was more optimistic. “Let’s wait for Steve to recover a little first. Then we can figure out our next steps.”

Adjusting the camera bag strap over his shoulder, Danny nodded toward the stairwell. “Well, I have a few of my own.”

* * *

After checking in with the member of HPD assigned to guard Steve’s room, Danny knocked on the door to announce his entrance. 

The head of the bed was raised, and Steve looked pretty much the way he did that morning: miserable. 

The pillow he used to brace his ribs was off to the side, the emesis bowl out of sight. EKG wires still covered his chest and he breathed heavily from a nasal cannula.

“Hey, Steve,” Danny said, coming to stand on the side of the bed.

Steve responded by scowling at him. 

“Whoa, you okay? I mean, other than feeling like hell?” The focus of Danny’s attention looked away, making him wonder if there’d been a setback. “Do you remember my name?”

“Danny.”

“Well, that was said with the enthusiasm of getting a root canal.” Danny watched fine tremors go down Steve’s arms. “You sound like my ex-wife when you say it that way.”

“I don’t like being kept out of the loop.”

“The loop about what?” Danny was honestly confused by Steve’s accusatory tone.

Then again, Steve had nothing to do with his time but to stew in his own pain and confusion. “I might be another case number to you, but this is my life. And while my brain is informative as a piece of Swiss cheese, I deserve to be let in on what you’re learning.”

No, no, no. Steve couldn’t be further off the mark if he tried. And for some reason it hurt. “First off, you’re more than a case number, and second, I’ve only been gone a few hours. I’m thrilled you have this much faith in me, and while I am pretty damn good detective, I’m not Superman.”

The muscle around Steve’s eye twitched as he stared at him. “But...you’ve been gone for days.”

“Days? No, try hours. I was here this morning.” 

Steve’s face fell. “Hours?”

All the anger deflated from Danny’s voice. “Yeah, babe.” 

“It…I mean, it seemed like…like days.” Steve scrunched up his face, balling his fists like he wanted to punch something. “I’m so screwed up.”

“You’ve got a lot of chemicals messing with your head.” 

But words solved little. Looking around the room, Danny noted a white board with times rounds had been conducted. There was a side table with a water pitcher. A TV with a poor cable connection. Hospitals were sanitary. Unstimulating. With no sense of... With no sense of time. 

Biting his lip, he unclipped his watch, a flash of pain filling his chest as he removed the worn leather strap. 

“Here. It ain’t fancy, but it has the time, digital calendar, and the date.” He held out the watch. Steve stared at Danny like he was offering the shirt off his back in the middle of a blizzard. “It’ll help you get the time and date straight until you’re a bit more clear-headed.”

Steve’s fingers brushed over Danny’s palm as he accepted the watch, his thumb rubbing along the underside of Danny’s wrist. It sent a shiver up Danny’s arm. Steve never took his eyes off Danny until he looked away to clasp the watch above his bandaged wrist.

“I’m not sure you should be—” Danny winced in sympathy as Steve moved his injured shoulder. “I could have…never mind.”

“Thank you, Danny.” Steve’s voice was pinched with emotion. “For everything.”

“I haven’t done much.”

“But, you’re trying.”

God, what did Steve’s eyes look like when they were not so bruised? What was he like when he wasn’t that damn broken?

A ghost of a smile tugged at Steve’s lips. “You know, when this is all over, you should let me buy you dinner.”

It took all of Danny’s willpower not to smile back. Steve was a crime victim. Danny was tasked with solving his case, for fuck’s sake. There were ethics, professionalism. “Maybe. But first, I was wondering if you’d give me permission to take pictures of your tattoos?”

Steve’s gaze strayed to the camera Danny pulled out of his bag. “You want to see if an artist recognizes them?”

Danny’s eyebrows rose. “Who is the detective here?”

“How would I know?”

Danny burst out laughing and _damn_ it was so inappropriate. Steve laughed with him, grunting when it obviously pulled on his sore muscles and broken ribs. 

Taking his own steadying breath, Danny contemplated his next steps. His ears might have turned pink. “I, um…need to see your arms.” 

Steve stared at the IV in his left arm, then the BP cuff on the other. Then there was the mess of EKG wires attached to his chest. After a quick assessment, he looked up at Danny. “It’ll be easier if you just handled everything.”

It was pragmatic as hell. “Are you sure you’re up for this?”

“Yeah, doc gave me something for my stomach.”

“Here, um, I need to get to these ties.” Danny pointed to the ones that held the fabric closed behind Steve’s back. “If you’re okay with it?”

Steve bent forward, displaying an incredible amount of trust. It made Danny’s heart go still. Without a word, Danny undid the plastic ties and carefully pulled the gown down and over Steve’s chest, careful of the EKG wires.

Every possible inch of Steve’s muscles were strung taut, coiled and full of fight and flight. Steve shifted his arm out of the sleeve using controlled and measured movements. 

Danny finished pulling the gown to Steve’s waist. But before he could move to the other side of the gurney, Steve finished on his own, moving his bad shoulder. Danny didn’t try to help; he wouldn’t, allowing Steve to finish on his own.

Gritting his teeth, Danny focused on his camera, pulling it out and bringing the view screen to his eye. He could hear Steve’s harsh breathing as he brought Steve’s upper bicep into his sight. 

The colors were vivid greens and blues. It was a weird mesh of tribal designs and modern _HR Giger._ The design wasn’t from a biker bar or cheap backroom crap. It was detailed and eloquent. And….

_Snap, snap, snap._

“Do these, um, have a special meaning?” Danny asked.

“I…think so.”

The detail of the lines, the shading. Someone would recognize this; it was too exquisite, too layered. 

Danny tried staying focused. He took maybe a dozen pictures, trying to ignore the amazing definition in Steve’s shoulder and arm. Tried not reacting to the black and blue bruising on Steve’s chest when his focal point strayed. 

He couldn’t help noticing the tendons in Steve’s forearms bunching from his fingers curling and uncurling.

“Are you okay?” Danny asked, worried that he might be triggering something.

“I’m fine.”

But Steve’s voice was tight. Danny hurried, finishing with this arm before moving over to the other side of the gurney. 

The next set of designs was influenced by nature. Lotus flowers and leaves, maybe something Tibetan. Danny wasn’t sure. 

The one thing he was sure of: Steve was both mentally and physically strong. How else did he survive against that much evil? All the hair along Danny’s neck stood on end as he listened to Steve’s slow, controlled breathing. 

By the time he was done, Danny felt drained. Lowering the camera, he looked over at Steve, worried the experience might have been too much. “Steve?”

Steve’s eyes were squeezed closed, his entire body a knot of tension. 

“Steve, are you okay?”

“I’m good.”

“Are you–”

“I said I’m fine, Danny.” Steve opened his eyes, releasing a heavy exhale. For the first time, Danny noticed a bolder, more determined look. “Did you get what you needed?”

No.

“Yeah, I think I did.” Danny lowered the camera. “And I promise, I’ll keep you updated.”

“Thank you, Danny.”

Danny hovered in the doorway, watching Steve watch him, a sense of duty and need overwhelming him. “Wait until I’ve got some answers, then you can thank me.”

* * *

It had been an hour since Danny had left the hospital and was forced to face reality. They hadn’t made any meaningful progress. 

He stared at the overhead screen, scrolling through crime-scene photos. The room with the broken chair and the shackles from the ceiling. The tiny storage room where Steve must have slept. The white room. If Steve couldn’t provide them with any clues then the bad guys were the key.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Danny looked over at Tani. “You back already?”

“There are only four fast food joints and a little fruit stand near the cleaners. None of the employees remembered any new repeat customers. But we’re working with the delivery services to get their records for the last few weeks. Just waiting on the judge.” Tani nodded at him. “And you? It looked like you were staring off into the abyss.”

“Just realizing how often we count on things that can’t talk to provide us with answers.” 

Danny was considering their next step when he heard the hallway door open and close.

Lou Grover strutted inside like a proud peacock, sporting the biggest triumphant grin. “My CI has been gift-wrapped and is waiting for you in the rendition room.”

“About damn time.” Danny went up to Lou and clapped him on the back. “Have you’ve gotten anything out of him yet?”

“He shut up the minute I slapped the cuffs on, but he hasn’t gotten high in about six hours so that’s probably a good starting point.”

* * *

Danny stared at the scrawny-looking guy who needed a shave and a shower. 

The suspect shook the handcuffs securing his wrists to the chair arms. “Grover, dude. What’s with the bracelets? And seriously, when am I going to eat? They didn’t serve lunch on the plane and you wouldn’t stop for burgers. I’m freaking hungry, man.”

“If you answer our questions than maybe we’ll get you something to eat,” Danny told him.

“Who’s the gumshoe, dude?”

Lou rolled his eyes. “Adam Charles, this is Detective Danny Williams.”

“It’s Toast. I don’t use the names forced upon me by my parents.”

“Toast is the island’s resident computer hacker and connoisseur of weed, which he can’t stop getting caught buying in copious amounts.”

“It’s only a matter of time until it’s legal everywhere,” Toast huffed.

“Well, it ain’t legal now.”

Danny held up his hands. “Look, I don’t care if you like to fry your brain cells. I want to know everything about the people operating the cleaners at 3145 Paoki Street.”

Toast shook his head. “No can do. Like I told Grover, I ain’t answering any questions about that.”

“Oh?” Danny raised his eyebrows. “And what makes you think it’s a request?”

“No, no, not gonna happen. I know my rights. I want my lawyer.”

Danny loomed over his suspect, resting both hands on the back of the chair. “You’re not leaving this room until you give me what I want. You’ll stay handcuffed to this chair until your wrists become infected with gangrene. And until you’re so damn thirsty you’re willing to suck the sweat off your skin then piss all over yourself and the floor.” He leaned further into Toast’s sweaty face and patted his cheek. “You just get real comfy and give us a yell when you’re ready to answers our questions. And maybe, just maybe, if we can even hear you through these thick walls, we might come back and see what you have to say.”

With that, Danny turned his back, tapped Lou on the shoulder, and they exited the room.

“Hey, man? Are you fucking serious?” Toast yelled.

Danny slammed the door and locked it behind him. He crossed his arms and nodded at Lou. “What do you say? Should we let him stew for three hours?”

“He’ll crack in two.”

Bringing his arm up to check the time, Danny’s heart sank when he stared at his bare wrist.

“Hey man, where did it go? Did you lose it?”

“I gave it to Steve.”

Lou’s jaw dropped. “You gave it to _Steve_?”

Danny rubbed at the stripe of pale skin. “He needed it.”

“More than you?”

Danny looked up at Lou’s concerned face. “Yeah.”

* * *

Toast had started yelling an hour ago. Danny and Lou waited another twenty before returning.

“Grover, man, why are you doing me like this?”

Lou rested his hands on his hips. “Are you going to answer my boss’s questions, or would you like to learn how to sleep in that chair?” 

“I like breathing, man.”

“There’s plenty of air in here,” Lou said, twirling his fingers around the room.

“You don’t understand these people, dude.” Toast glared at Lou and Danny. “I’ll be dead the moment I leave this room.”

This was the pinch point, where as an interrogator added more pressure or offered a way out from torment. Danny flanked Toast by standing on his other side. “We can protect you.”

“Yeah, right.”

Adding more pressure, then. 

Danny shrugged. “Or, we could let you walk right out the door and tell every two-bit criminal you spilled the beans on every major criminal organization you worked for.”

Toast’s eyes practically bugged out of his head. “You can’t do that.”

“Yeah, we can,” Danny said, turning the screws.

“This is ridiculously unfair.”

Lou snorted. “Pick better business associates.” 

“I want protection, a new name, all my money in bitcoin….”

Bingo. 

Danny nodded at Lou, who bent over and began dangling the carrot. “Give us something and we’ll talk.”

“Okay, I may handle cyber security for certain people to help with their finances.”

“Go on,” Lou goaded.

“I keep hackers like me from hacking them.”

“Who?” Lou demanded.

“The local Yakuza.”

The blood vessels almost burst inside Danny’s brain. “Bullshit.”

Toast rolled his eyes. “There are still operations going on, man.”

It was like someone had ripped open Danny’s soul and poured gasoline all over it, lit a match, and held it an inch away. He felt the heat simmer and boil under his skin. 

“No, they’re not,” he spat, his voice shaking. “Because I wiped out those sons of bitches four years ago. Drugs, money laundering, protection, they’re not running those things anymore. Our task force took out their entire leadership, their top lieutenants, everyone. We chased them off the islands.”

“Things rebuild, man; they operate in the shadows.”

Danny’s body trembled with unrestrained anger. He felt Lou’s hand on his shoulder, reassuring and steady. Sucking in a breath, Danny kept his voice steely calm. “I would know if the Yakuza started operations, do you understand? I have people in places, eyes and ears everywhere. I’d just know.”

Toast swallowed. “I got ya, man, but this isn’t like the normal Yakuza, more like a go-between.”

“A what?” Danny growled.

“A go-between. There’s this one guy who runs a small organization specializing in guns, personnel, and information. He does things for the Yakuza because, well, because of _you guys._”

Danny felt a familiar flare of pain inside his chest. 

Lou clapped Danny on the back a few times then turned his focus on their suspect. “Okay, okay, let’s focus on this case. Toast, man, you’re the one who dropped a nickel about the cleaners and you told me about that transport. What do you know about our kidnap victim?”

Toast puffed out his cheeks as he blew out a breath. “Look, all I do is provide cyber services. And by doing so, I’ve sometimes seen things. Electronic things. Video, communication, stuff like that.” He squirmed in the chair. “I was doing a sweep for sniffers on my client’s mainframe when I came across…some video. Of this guy, you know, getting….”

“Tortured,” Danny said.

“Yeah, I mean kind of.” Toast looked up at Danny, his lips pursed in thought. “It was of a guy in this white room. The dude was always unconscious, and these goons would drag him inside and dump him on the floor. Then he’d wake up, eventually.” 

“And, like, they’d leave him in there for hours. Sometimes a whole day.” Toast shook his head, his voice quiet. “It was freaky. Sometimes he’d pace or exercise; dude did a lot of push-ups. He’d talk to himself, recite what sounded like rules, tell stories out loud, talk-out math equations. After a while…you could tell he was having a hard time.”

Danny tried not to imagine it, tried blocking out the idea of Steve all alone in a room meant to break his mind.

“And they’d just leave him there?” Lou asked.

“Yeah.” Toast frowned. “Then I think they’d pump gas inside the room or something, because he’d just collapse, and the same goons would drag him back out. I couldn’t stay logged into the server for long. I just got sneak peeks, but based on the time stamps it seems like they did that almost every day.” He sighed. “I started going crazy just watching, you know? So, I tracked the ISP to those cleaners and sent the info to you.”

Lou took a breath. “And the transport?”

“I might have poked around my client’s servers again and realized they were deleting files. And it’s possible I might have driven by the cleaners and used some illegal equipment to listen in on some cell phones.” Toast shrugged. “I didn’t catch much, because, like I said, I like breathing. But I did hear a conversation about ‘moving the package’ and caught some of the details. That’s when I called you with the info.”

Danny studied Toast’s defeated demeanor, his slumped shoulders and pale complexion. He’d been very affected by what he’d witnessed. “Sounds like you went through a lot of trouble for a guy who claims he likes to keep breathing.”

Toast looked Danny in the eyes. “If you saw how that guy was reacting in the white room after the six or seventh the time? Banging on the walls, yelling until he lost his voice. When he started sitting in the corner crying….” He looked to the floor. “I had to do _something._”

It was as though someone plunged a knife into Danny’s chest. 

“Who is your client?” Lou asked.

“I don’t know his name. I’ve never even met him in person.”

“You had to text or message each other,” Danny growled. “You had to call him something.”

“Dude used a codename.” Toast sighed. “Even the electronic funds were transferred from a file with the same name.”

“Okay then, what was his codename?” Danny demanded. 

“Thinner.”

“Like the Stephen King novel?” Lou asked surprised.

“I thought it was like the chemical solvent.”

Danny threw up his hands. “I don’t care what it stands for. What I care about is how you contact him.”

“I can’t anymore!” Toast snapped. “After the transport, the chat room I used disappeared. Even the bank account he used to pay me is gone.”

Danny was sick of excuses. “Then you’re going to get your laptop or computer and you’re going through every saved file or chat conversation and you’re going to give us everything you have on this guy. Every scrap of info. I want to know who he is and where we can find him.”

“I want a deal.”

“And I want everyone you have on this Thinner’s connection to Yakuza,” Danny growled, leaning over the chair again. “Everything. Do you understand? The Yakuza, their associates, their pen pals. I don’t care.”

“All right, man. Chill out. I need my laptop and, you know, some food.”

Reaching over Lou, Danny un-cuffed Toast from the chair. “We’ll get both to you in a few hours.”

Danny turned around and started walking out, Lou right behind him.

“Hey, Grover, did you find the guy?” Toast asked. “The dude in the white room?”

A chill went down Danny’s spine. 

Lou turned around, his voice a low whisper. “Yeah, we did.”

* * *

Danny yanked open every drawer in his office, his hand pressed to his lower chest. It felt like it was on fire. He squeezed his eyes closed against the need to throw-up.

He heard a knock at the door and he waved at whoever it was until he saw a bottle of ginger ale in his line of vision. Danny looked up at Junior as he held out the _Gingr’Fiz_. “Thanks, buddy,” he said, taking the drink.

“You run out of your prescription?” Junior asked.

“I haven’t needed it in a while.”

“Lou filled me in on our witness. Sounds like it won’t be until the morning until he’s gone through all his files.”

“Is that a hint?”

“Call it a suggestion, sir.” Junior looked at Danny’s left wrist with a frown. “This case is a tough one. Toughest one in a while.”

“If cases like this don’t hurt, then you shouldn’t be on the job.” Danny laid a hand on Junior’s shoulder. “You’ve known what to say to our victim at the most critical times. You’ve done a good job.”

“There’s this air about him. Something…alluring. He’s a survivor.” Junior looked over at Danny and raised an eyebrow. “I think you’ve noticed what I’m talking about.”

“I’ve noticed that it's time to go home and start fresh in the morning.”

“Since you’re tired, could I drive?”

Danny pulled out his car keys and rolled the ring around his finger. “You can drive when you save enough money to buy your own car.”

* * *

After a bowl of chicken soup and crusty bread from the place up the street, Danny sat on his sofa with Eddie snuggled next to him. He’d sent pictures of Steve’s tattoos to several local artists. Toast was digging through his files. Junior and Tani had sent a warrant to all the local food delivery services for their records. 

Eddie whined, and Danny knew he deserved one of his raw bones. Getting up, he walked toward the kitchen, stopping in front of one of his bookshelves, his eyes scanning various framed pictures. 

He smiled at the one of him and Grace on a swing in the local park. There was black framed one of his family during his graduation from the Police Academy. With his mom and dad and sisters. Of Matty with his arm slung over Danny’s shoulders with a cheesy grin, his thousand-dollar suit and gold cufflinks, and an old worn-out watch that he’d kept despite a new Wall Street lifestyle. 

Danny brushed his fingers over his wrist, moisture suddenly building up in his eyes, his chest aching from holding everything together. “I’m so sorry, Matty.” His eyes strayed to the picture taken last month at the beach with Grace, Rachel, Stan, and Charlie. And all the emotions from today, all the healing wounds made raw once again, triggered the tears that streamed down his face. 

He cried for his brother, for his family, for all the choices that he’d made and was still forced to live with. Things he would never be able to repair.

Something warm licked at his fingers and Danny peered down at Eddie, who offered comfort in the only way he knew how. 

Wiping at his tears, Danny crouched down as Eddie snuggled against him and Danny hugged him, his body shaking. “Never again, yeah? I’m not going to let those Yakuza bastards get away with destroying another life.” 

_“Did you find the guy? The dude in the white room?”_

Danny kissed Eddie’s head. “I’m going to do better this time, I promise. I’m going to make sure of it.”


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

Danny woke up early after a restless night of memory-induced nightmares. He showered and changed then headed to the hospital. Given traffic, he texted Junior to get a ride with Tani so they could all meet up later. While he couldn’t divulge much to Steve about Toast, at least he could mention a promising lead. 

It was possible that Danny meandered around the halls in the hopes of bumping into one of the nurses on rotation in Steve’s rooms to get an update regarding his condition. He was pleasantly surprised to run into Noelani coming out of one of the staff break rooms.

“Detective.” She brushed cake crumbs from the front of her jacket. “I’m, um, actually glad to run into you.”

“Is there progress with Steve?”

Noelani ducked her head. “No, I’m afraid not. Dr. Bergman did speak to him for a few minutes, which is kind of unheard for him, but he said Steve’s concussion symptoms interfered with the possibility for any verbal cognitive test.”

It was too early in the morning for disappointment. “Well, I mean, that’s to be expected, right? He’s only been here a few days.”

“Yes, about that.”

“What?”

“Steve is still technically a John Doe. He has no emergency contacts, no relatives, and no known insurance.”

Danny couldn’t believe his ears. “Are you kidding me? We’re talking about this right now?”

“I want to talk about it now, so we can be prepared.”

_“We?”_

“He’s my patient, Danny. I have a vested interest in his wellbeing.” The fact that Noelani used his first name was testament to her sincerity. 

“He’s a crime victim; he’s injured.”

“They’re not life-threatening injuries. He is no longer tachycardic, and the fluids have done a good job of flushing out his system.”

“Just because the presence of toxins are no longer detectable in his blood work, doesn’t mean they’re not impacting cells and neurons and everything else.” The guy was just going through withdrawal the other day. 

“He no longer has a toxic load in his system that represents a danger to his life.” Her voice grew quiet. “He’s stabilized.”

“Except for the fact that he doesn’t know who he is and doesn’t have it together enough to pass a cognitive test.”

“I’m sorry, Danny. I’ve already put in a call to social and financial services and I know with your connections to victim’s groups—” 

Danny held up his hand to cut her off. “Right, because they’re prepared to deal with a complex case of a guy who is currently the only witness in about a dozen crimes.”

Noelani looked at him with empathy. “We have a few days to plan something.”

“Yeah. Sure.” Danny wiped a hand over his mouth. “Thanks for the heads up.”

“We’ll figure something out.”

* * *

Nodding at the HPD officer in front of the hospital room, he knocked on the door before entering, and froze at what he saw. “What the hell are you doing?”

Steve was on his feet, dressed in a scrub tops and pants, searching the standing cabinet in his room. “I’m looking for my clothes.”

“You don’t have any.” Danny was going add, _don’t you remember_, but stopped himself. He noticed the IV tubing had been pulled out again; luckily for the staff, there wasn’t any blood staining the sheets. “Are you supposed to be standing?”

“Doc had me up and about yesterday after you left.” Steve leaned on the cabinet like it was the only thing holding him up. “She said I needed to move around. I agreed with the assessment.”

“You agreed with the assessment? Well, I kind of think you need to get back into bed.”

“I’ve been here for three days.”

“Two days.”

“Two and a half.”

“You’re seriously debating me on this?” Danny pointed at the bed. “Sit down, will ya? Or are you trying to parade around without any clothes again?”

Steve glared at Danny. “You’re really stubborn, you know that?”

“Looked in the mirror lately?” Danny shot back.

Except there wasn’t a mirror anywhere in sight. Danny crossed his arms and flicked his gaze toward the gurney. Steve made no motion to return to the bed.

“Is this some alpha thing?” Danny asked. “Because you have nothing to prove. I’m already impressed.”

Steve narrowed his eyes at Danny in curiosity. But gravity wasn’t Steve’s friend and it was obvious that being upright was pulling on his injuries. 

“Well, seeing as I don’t have clothes…” Using the end of the gurney for balance, Steve crawled back into the bed, adjusting it until he was sitting up. But he was fidgety, scanning the room, his eyes flickering between Danny and the door, then back to the TV. He played with the end of the sheet. “I’m tired of lying around.”

“It’s called healing.”

“I hate this room. It makes me feel like I’m suffocating.”

Danny was surprised by the candor. Steve must have been too, because he looked away as soon as the words left his mouth. After questioning Toast, Danny could appreciate Steve’s claustrophobia given his bleak surroundings.

“Maybe you could ask a nurse to take you outside to get some fresh air?”

Steve continued twirling the end of the sheet between his fingers. “Maybe.”

In hindsight, Danny wished he had brought one of Grace’s old handheld video games or a book. He felt Steve’s gaze on him and Danny looked over and noticed a decent amount of swelling had gone down in Steve’s face. Some of the cuts were slowly healing and Steve’s natural good looks were appearing from beneath the bruising. He was dying to see what he looked like without the beard. 

“Did you get anything from the photos?”

It took a few moments before Danny realized he’d been asked a question. “Hmm?”

The ends of Steve’s mouth curved into a wan grin. “My tattoos.”

“Oh. Nothing yet.” He noted Steve’s disappointed frown. “It hasn’t even been a day. Give it time.”

“Just a day?” Steve looked at the watch above his bandaged wrist. “Oh, yeah.”

“Still having issues with tracking time?”

“A little. It, um, it’s not as bad as before. This helps.”

Danny wondered which ‘before’ Steve was referring to: his time in the hospital or during his captivity. He took comfort in the way Steve rubbed at the face of the watch, knowing it offered some form of help.

A knock on the door interrupted Danny’s musings and two orderlies walked inside, one of them pushing a wheelchair. The first orderly went toward side of Steve’s bed. “Hi, I’m Justin.” He pulled out a mini iPad. “We’re here to take you to your MRI, Mr.…Steve.”

Danny moved over and stood next to the orderly with the wheelchair. The guy nodded at him before covering his yawn with his hand. Danny noted his name tag: Mike.

“I already answered that other doc’s questions; I don’t want another test.”

“I’m sorry, sir. We’ll try to be quick.” Justin scrolled through his iPad before putting it back into his front scrub pocket. 

It must have been tough being subjected to tests like a lab rat. Danny was about to give Steve some peace when he noticed Mike was wearing black boots and not sneakers. Danny looked over and noticed the other orderly also had on boots. 

“Which doc ordered this?” Danny asked. 

Mike tapped his hands on the wheelchair handles. “Sorry, we’re just here to prep and take the patient.”

Steve stopped fiddling with the sheet and looked between both orderlies. 

Justin pulled out a packet from his front pocket, unpeeling a wrapper to reveal a syringe. “We just have to give you something for the scan, sir.”

Danny brushed his hand over his hip, forgetting he wasn’t wearing his gun holster.

Steve sat straighter in bed, his expression murderous. “I’m not getting an injection.” 

Justin stared at Steve then the syringe. “It’s just iodine.”

“I said no.”

Before Danny could intervene, Steve slapped the syringe out of Justin’s hand. The orderly reacted by pulling out a hidden six-inch knife.

_Holy shit._ Before Danny could shout a warning, Steve pulled a fork from underneath the sheets and jammed it into the other man’s throat.

Mike grabbed Danny by the shoulder. Danny took the man’s wrist and twisted his arm around and pinned it behind his back. Mike reversed the move by twisting his body until he re-straightened his arm, kicking Danny in the knee. 

Pain exploded in his kneecap, but Danny grabbed the wheelchair and slammed it into the back of Mike’s legs as he pulled out a Glock from his waistband.

Steve was out of bed and on his feet. He swung his IV pole into Mike’s head, knocking him unconscious and almost falling in the process.

Breathing hard, Steve snagged Danny’s arm and started tugging. “We’ve got to go.”

“Are you kidding me? We’ve got to remain here.”

Steve picked up the fallen knife from the floor. “Do you honestly think there are only two of them?”

Blood splatter stained the front of Steve’s scrub top. Between that and the knife, he looked like a deranged lunatic. The first suspect was dead beneath a growing pool of crimson. Danny shook his head. “I’m calling for back-up.”

“I can’t wait on back-up.” 

Steve started toward the door in a wobbly zigzag. Danny grabbed the back of his scrub top. “We’re waiting here.”

Pulling away, Steve scanned the wall and went over and pulled the fire alarm. It began blaring throughout the hospital. 

“What the hell is the matter with you?” Danny yelled over the noise.

“It’s a distraction. We have to go, or we’re both dead.”

Danny considered the facts over Steve’s frantic words. Two people had entered the room to cause harm. Danny had no positive ID on those who committed the crimes in the warehouse, but if they were connected to the Yakuza….

Danny had a job to do: protect and serve. He locked eyes with Steve in a deadly stare off. “You can’t leave the hospital.”

“I’m either leaving by my own two feet or in a body bag. I prefer the first option, don’t you?”

“Oh my god, you’re insane.” There was no way he was allowing his victim to call the shots. “You do exactly what I say, when I say it.” Danny looked back at the wheelchair. “Sit in that.”

“I’m not –”

“Zip it. I don’t doubt your manly ways. It’s for cover. Now, sit in that and let’s go.”

Grabbing a robe from behind the door, Steve slipped it on, covering his bloody scrub top.

Danny opened the door, noting the HPD officer was missing and the halls were filled with staff trying to help their patients evacuate. The chaos made good concealment, but it also made it hard to spot any potential threats. “We’ll try to blend in with the crowd.”

“We should go through the emergency entrance and not the exit.”

That was actually a good idea. The people who were obviously after Steve were either walking through the hospital or were waiting for them to exit. “Okay. Keep your head down and look sick.”

“I can do that.”

Yeah, it wouldn’t take a big stretch of the imagination. 

Counting to three, Danny pushed the wheelchair through the doors.

* * *

There was an ambulance parked in the bay. Several EMTs were trying to prevent people from entering the hospital. Danny pushed the wheelchair away from patient drop-off and toward the emergency parking. Except there was one small problem. 

“My car is in the visitor’s area.” Danny tried imagining the layout of all the parking-lots. “We can go around.”

“Don’t bother.”

Steve pushed out of the wheelchair and started walking toward a side parking area.

“This is not part of the plan!” Danny put the brakes on the wheelchair and left it by a sidewalk. “Where are you going?”

With an arm braced against his side, Steve moved around cars. He scanned the area in front of him, behind him, head pivoting in every direction. 

Steve stopped in front of an old model sedan and checked the lock. He swung open the driver-side door and ducked inside.

After scanning the immediate area for threats, Danny poked his head through the window. Steve was sitting in the driver’s seat, pulling out wires from the ignition. “What are you…?” Realization dawned. “You’re hotwiring the car. How the hell do you know how to hot-wire a car?”

Steve twisted two wires together, and the car engine roared to life. Steve glanced up at Danny, breathing heavily, face pale. “I don’t know.”

“We are not stealing this car.”

“We need to evac.”

“Evac?” Danny waved his hands around. “We’re not on a battlefield. You are a witness and a victim of a crime, not to mention in my custody.”

Gripping the steering wheel with both hands, Steve looked him in the eyes, his voice rough. “Am I your prisoner, Danny?”

Sweat beaded in Danny’s hairline. The fire alarm stopped blaring, and a few people started coming out the front doors. They were too far away to identify; they could have been staff or worried civilians or people with freaking knives. Two people started walking in their direction.

“Move over, I’m driving.” Steve gaped at him and Danny made shooing motions. “Enough with the goldfish impersonation. Move or go around to the passenger side, it’ll be easier.”

Steve obeyed, climbing out of the seat with a wince, and went over to the other side of the car. Danny got into the driver’s seat, and Steve got in the seat next to him with a groan. 

Danny spotted two men canvassing the parking-lot; one of them was talking into a cell phone. They could have been security or just visiting the hospital, but he wouldn’t take a chance.

Backing out of the parking space, Danny drove away.

“Where are we going?” Steve asked once they got to the road.

“Are you serious? You had this whole escape planned out, but not where you were going to go?” Steve’s blank expression tempered Danny’s ire. Steve didn’t know the island. Sighing, he took a left. “We’re going somewhere safe.”

* * *

Danny drove the long way around to ensure he didn’t have any tails before he pulled out his cell phone.

“What are you doing?” Steve asked him.

“Calling my team. We just left a crime scene with two dangerous suspects around innocent hospital staff.”

Steve clenched his jaw, his eyes on the rearview mirror, fingers tapping an erratic beat on his knee.

Hitting speed-dial, Danny put the call on speakerphone for ease of driving and transparency for his itchy passenger.

_“Sir,”_ Junior answered. _“What happened at the–“_

“Two men tried to either kidnap or kill Steve. I’m not sure yet. You and Tani need to get over there and secure the scene. You’re on speaker, by the way.”

_“Where are you now?”_

“In a borrowed sedan, heading to my place.”

Danny could tell Junior was not happy with being asked to go to the hospital, based on his silence. “Look, buddy. We’re both safe. After you’re done with the scene, meet me back at my place. We’ll regroup.”

_“Copy that.”_

“We really shouldn’t be going to your house,” Steve said. “We should probably go to a more secure, remote location.”

Steve talked like he’d been in situations like his before. The thought had entered Danny’s mind. Junior was right; no one went through this much trouble over a normal target. Whatever happened to Steve’s memories, his natural instincts were intact. 

Driving toward the security check-point leading to his apartment complex, Danny flashed the guard his badge. “This isn’t the vehicle of record for my file.”

Hank, as people called him, nodded at Danny. “I can see that, sir.” The guard glanced over at Steve.

“This is my guest.” 

Danny didn’t use any code words. Hank waved them in without further issue.

Steve remained silent, vigilant. While it was obvious he was super curious about where Danny lived, he didn’t say a word while he stared out the window. “I count three different security cameras.”

Steve had a trained eye. Danny pulled into his assigned parking spot. “I’ve had security issues in the past because of work. This apartment complex is used by local government officials and a few celebrities and the like.”

“You can afford that?”

“No.”

Steve looked at Danny with a soft expression; Steve’s hand reached toward him before he aborted the move. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Danny rolled his neck and took two deep breaths. “Come on, let’s get you inside before my neighbors get one look at you and run screaming in the other direction.”

Steve laughed. He honest-to-God chuckled, all the lines of his face smoothing away with a grin. It made something inside Danny’s chest glow warmly. Steve caught Danny grinning at him, his eyes sweet and kind and….

Danny cleared his throat. “You ready?”

Steve nodded and the two of them exited the car, Danny leading the way.

* * *

After punching in the key to his alarm, Danny unlocked the door and waved Steve inside.

Steve hugged the living room wall. “There’s a camera in the hallway. Does someone monitor it?” 

Before Danny could answer, he heard the familiar trot of Eddie, who came bounding out of the hallway. Steve tensed, but Danny bent down to pet his companion. “Were you on the bed again? How many times have I told you about that?”

Eddie barked then looked over at Steve, lowering his head at the new visitor.

“Go eat your kibble, go on,” Danny told him. Eddie ran toward the kitchen and Danny followed, locking the door behind the dog just in case he spooked Steve.

Danny returned his attention to Steve, who was scoping out the place from his position by the door.

“No one monitors the hallway cameras,” Danny told him. “Everything is recorded though.”

Steve moved from the wall, checking the doorknob, then the lock, before walking a full circle of the living room. It was only then that Danny noticed that Steve still had the suspect’s knife clutched in his hand. Fuck.

Danny grabbed a blanket from the sofa. “Here, I need that for evidence.”

Steve’s grip tightened around the handle and Danny paused. “Steve, give me the knife. I need to see if CSU can salvage any DNA from it.”

Reluctantly, Steve handed the blade over and Danny took it and wrapped the weapon with the blanket. 

Steve looked around the living room but didn’t sit on the sofa or the loveseat. He was assessing things, eyes drifting toward the dining room. “Is there only one entrance and exit?”

“There is a set of sliding glass doors in the back. Leads to a back porch. I’m on the second floor. I also have two bedrooms, and a bath and a half. I’ll give you the grand tour in a few.”

But Steve was still on edge. He didn’t seem to know what to do with himself as he continued to scan the corners. “Your dog, he doesn’t have a backyard to play in?”

“No. Eddie doesn’t get around so good, so he’s fine inside an apartment.” 

Steve looked Danny up and down, but not in a _checking him out_ sort of way. “Do you have any back-ups beside the piece in the planter?”

Danny rubbed a hand over his tired eyes. “How did you even notice that?” 

He wasn’t going to grab the emergency one; he walked toward the hutch beside his bookshelf. Grabbing his keys from his pocket and unlocking the drawer, Danny pulled out his Heckler & Kotch and put it in the back of the waistband of his pants. Sighing, he looked over at Steve, who had been tracking his every move. “Did you recognize the men from the hospital?”

“No. You should know that, given one of them almost got close enough to gut me.”

“What about in the parking lot?”

“No.”

“You seemed pretty convinced a team was involved.”

Steve’s nostrils flared. “I was doing what felt right, what my gut told me what to do.”

“Including how to hotwire a car?”

“I just knew how…. I didn’t have to think about it, I just did it.” Steve started to pace as he rubbed at his face. “I don’t know what’s going on, Danny. I don’t know why people are after me, or how I knew where to look for your back-up weapon, or that you even had one. I just…knew.”

Steve moved to within inches of Danny, his eyes red-rimmed, his chest heaving. “I don’t know what’s happening, you have to believe me.”

“Okay, okay. I had to ask.” Danny needed to call his team. But first. “Hold on a sec, okay? I'm just going into my bedroom.”

Walking down the hall, Danny went into his room and started rifling through drawers. Gathering some items, he walked back to where Steve was pacing in an awkward hobble. 

“Here.” Danny dropped the clothes on his sofa. “I think you’ll be more comfortable in a t-shirt and sweat-pants. They may not be the right size, but they’re better than bloody scrubs, which I need to collect as evidence.”

Steve stopped pacing and grabbed the sweatpants, studying them. “Thanks, these should fit.” 

Without preamble, Steve sat on the sofa and shoved his scrub pants down his legs and pulled on sweatpants. Danny made a mental note to give Steve a pair of boxers since, well, he wasn’t wearing any. 

Removing his shirt was more problematic. Steve got the scrub top half way over his chest before he bent over in a grunt.

“Let me.” Danny stepped over and grabbed the fabric, helping to remove the top so Steve didn’t have to move his shoulder. Danny paused before handing over the t-shirt, his gaze lingering on the healing burns on Steve’s chest, at the bandage around his ribs, the persistent bruising. “I should stop by the pharmacy later, grab some ointment and some Advil.”

“You don’t have to.” Steve took the t-shirt from Danny, his hands lingering on Danny’s fingers before putting it on with some help.

Steve scooted back and rested his head against the sofa. “Thank you. Again.”

He seemed to drift off the moment he closed his eyes, his coiled body relaxing, fingers uncurling. He looked peaceful. Danny looked for a blanket to throw over him. 

Of course, Danny’s cell phone buzzed and Steve jerked awake, his hands reaching for a weapon that wasn’t there. Danny made a mental note of it.

“Junior,” Danny answered.

_“We have one DB inside the hospital room. I guess it was a good thing we let Steve keep that fork.”_

“And the second suspect?”

_“He wasn’t here when I arrived. I have Officer Davis to interview next. Although he said he’d been called away for a family emergency.”_

“Security footage?”

_“Tani’s grabbing it. Listen, sir, I’m concerned for your safety. We still have no idea who we’re up against and they were willing to strike the hospital.”_

“I’m at home. No one followed us. And I’m armed.”

_“Sir….”_

“I’m good. Stop by when you’ve wrapped up and we’ll figure out our next moves.”

Although at the moment, Danny had no idea what those might be. 

Danny ended the call and looked over at his house guest. Steve was on his feet again, pacing, his expression dark and lined with pain. 

God, what the hell was Danny going to do with him? What a cluster-fuck.

* * *

Making food was a good distraction after a harrowing morning. At least, that was Danny’s goal.

“Would you like something to eat? Soup, sandwich? I might have some fruit?”

“No, thanks.” 

Steve had finally settled down on the sofa, but he sat on the edge of the cushion, his knee bouncing. He was strung tighter than a bow. Danny wanted him to feel safe inside his home. He needed to help ground Steve, give him something to focus on, to relax despite what had just transpired. 

The guy had to be hungry. Unless.

“When was the last time you’ve had any real food?” 

“I had…” Steve shook his head. “Broth, applesauce, stuff like that in the hospital. I couldn’t hold much down until….” His brow furrowed. “Until four days ago?”

“Yesterday.” Danny told him. “I think you were done with the worst of the withdrawal yesterday morning.”

Rubbing a hand over the watch, Steve glanced down at the display. “Right. Yesterday.”

Danny was at a loss for how to help the guy. Steve had stuck a fork inside someone’s throat without blinking. He’d led Danny out of the hospital in expert fashion. And now, in his living room, it was like Steve didn’t know what to do. He was like this unsteady powder keg that could be set off at any second.

“Would you like some hot tea? It might help you relax. I’m sure it wasn’t easy to sleep in that hospital with all the people going in and out.”

Steve snorted. “Not even sure I would know how.”

“How to what? Sleep?”

Steve didn’t answer the question. He played with the fabric of his sweatpants. It was weird seeing Danny’s clothes on Steve. The pant legs didn’t go all the way down to his ankles. God, Danny wanted to take away the pain and apprehension the man was clearly feeling, get rid of that damn haunted expression.

Eddie barked from the kitchen and Steve jerked in response, his eyes darting toward the sound, his breathing harsh.

Food was a no; sleep was a no. Okay, next plan.

“Would you like a shower?” Danny asked. “I bet you’ve only had sponge baths and not a real honest shower. Hot water, soap, steam. It could do wonders.”

“Are you…sure?” Steve glanced down the hall, his face softening at the idea. “I mean, I wouldn’t want to cause you much trouble.”

“I don’t think using some of my water is going to put me out, babe.”

There it was again. Steve’s shy grin. It made Danny’s heart beat faster, and damn it, he needed to keep control of his emotions.

“Come on, I’ll show you where everything is.”

Steve followed Danny down the hall and toward the main bathroom. Walking inside, Danny waved at everything. “The vanity has all you need. Sink and, um, well my toothbrush. We can buy you a new one. I’ve got fresh towels on the rack.” He opened the door leading to shower and toilet. “The soap and shampoo and stuff are all in the shower shelf. I might have an extra razor somewhere.”

Danny didn’t hear Steve moving behind him anymore and he turned around. Steve stood in front of the vanity, staring at himself in the mirror. He rubbed his fingers over his beard, over the healing cuts by his eyes, the receding swelling over his jaw.

Steve turned his head left then right. “I guess I really pissed someone off.” He ran a hand through his short hair, over the flecks of gray. “I’m…older than I thought.”

Steve looked at Danny’s reflection in the mirror. “We look the same age.”

Danny swallowed, his skin feeling warm. “Who are you kidding? I’m years younger than you.” 

“How would I know?” Steve turned his head toward Danny, frustration deepening the lines in his brow. “Do you have any idea what it’s like not knowing your own age? Your last name? I can hear myself talk, but I don’t recognize who is speaking. I look myself in the eye…” Steve glanced at his reflection. “Nothing. No memory of me as a kid. Of my family.” 

“I can’t begin to understand what you’re going through. What it must be like…not knowing who you are. I’m sorry, Steve.”

“Is there a cat I should be feeding? Are my parents worried sick? Do I…do I have kids?” Steve stared at Danny like he held all the answers. “Wouldn’t I know? In my gut.”

“I…” Danny wanted to say yes, that deep inside your bones, you just did. He couldn’t jump to such a conclusion, but he didn’t want to create more stress. “I think that all we can do is regroup. Give you some time to heal and figure things out.”

“Earlier, you asked me about sleeping. If I do manage to fall asleep…I…I wake up and my mind is a fucking blank page. It’s…_terrifying._” Bowing his head, Steve took a ragged breath, his voice hitching. “All I remember when I wake up is…I remember you calling my name when I was in the back of that truck. I remember you talking to me in the hospital, giving me hope when I felt like death warmed over….” He rubbed at the watch over his wrist. “My only recent memories are about _you_, Danny. And, fuck, it’s one of the few things keeping me sane.”

Clearing his throat, Steve looked away from the mirror, away from Danny. He stared at the towel rack, at the shower. At anything except the focus of his words.

God, Danny didn’t know what to do with the weight of such emotions. That he was Steve’s lifeline. It was both humbling and scary as hell. Because all he’d wanted was to be a source of support, of security, and now that Danny realized how much Steve was depending on him….

Danny needed to get out of here, but Steve still had on his t-shirt and probably needed help removing it. Maybe he should grab him a button up shirt instead. 

“You don’t have to stay,” Steve said his voice thicker. In more control. “I’ve got this. I can pull everything off one-handed. I need to learn one way or another.”

Danny knew Steve needed space; he needed to feel in control even if it was just to take a shower alone. He’d give him that. 

“Holler if you need anything. I mean it.” Danny tried infusing sarcasm into his voice. “I don’t need you falling over and breaking something.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, okay. I’ll be, you know, right outside in the living room.”

Steve continued watching him in the mirror as Danny turned around and walked out. Closing the door behind him, he escaped into the living room.

* * *

Danny paced. Back and forth. Back and forth. Until he’d practically worn a trail in the living room. He needed to get a grip. Shove all the feelings and desire to make everything better inside a steel box. Steve needed a detective, not a guy who couldn’t keep his bleeding heart from spilling all over the floor.

Phone. Where was his phone? He’d left it on the coffee table. Picking it up, he found several text messages from Junior. And two voice mails. 

Shit. After scrolling through the texts and listening to the message, Danny wanted to rip his hair out. There’d been a shootout. He phoned Lou.

_“Danny. We’ve been trying to call you.”_

“Tani and Junior found security footage, tracked the suspect from the hospital, and shot him during a firefight,” Danny summarized.

_“Yeah. They’re still wrapping up the scene.”_

“Are they okay?”

_“Yeah. But the suspect is dead.”_

Another dead body to throw onto the pile. Jameson was going to have his head.

_“Listen. Toast discovered a recent money transfer before he lost the Thinner account.”_

Danny stopped pacing. “Payment for this morning.”

_“Probably. Also, Eric tested the contents of the syringe left at the hospital. It was a sedative. It was definitely an attempted snatch and grab.”_

Danny was curious about that given how fast the would-be kidnapper pulled out a knife. Well, they couldn’t have Steve. 

“Tell Toast he doesn’t leave HQ until we have every scrap of info on this Thinner. If he’s really working for the Yakuza....”

_“I know, brother. I know. Toast’s been working for hours trying to reconstruct some computer thing. I don’t know. But he’s on it. Listen man, Jameson is calling me on the other line.”_

“Why is she calling you?”

_“Don’t know. Look, I’ve got to go.”_

Why was the Captain calling Lou and not him? Paranoia prickled under Danny’s skin.

The bathroom door creaked open and Steve walked into the hallway, pausing in front of the living room. His hair was spiky from being wet, water beading on his forehead. Even after taking a shower, he was still looked tense as fuck. Walking forward, he used the wall for support.

“Hey,” Danny said. “You okay?”

“Yeah.”

Except for the fine tremors in Steve’s arms. Danny stepped closer and Steve took a step back. 

“People who are fine do not move around shaking like a leaf.” 

Danny studied his guest. The borrowed t-shirt and sweats were wet like Steve didn’t dry off before putting them on. Come to think of it, Steve must have taken the fastest shower known to man. Something had put him even more on edge.

Danny shoved his hands into his pockets, relaxing his posture. Trying for casual. “I have a second bedroom. Maybe you’d like to re-think taking a nap?”

Steve leaned his back against the wall and tapped a beat against his thigh with his fingers. It was a nervous tic Danny had picked up on more than once. He wiped drops of water from his face and rubbed at his temples, signaling a headache. “Maybe.”

“You’re safe here. And I know you’re hurting. It wasn’t like you were really discharged this morning.”

“This morning?” Steve glanced at the watch, squinting. “I guess that was today.”

Danny frowned at Steve’s continued inability to keep track of time. “Do you remember what happened at the hospital?”

Steve curled his hand into a fist. “Some hired muscle tried to take me back and I wouldn’t let them.” His voice grew heavy, his eyes dark. “I won’t go back there, Danny. They’ll have to kill me first.”

“And they’ll have to go through me.” And fuck if Danny’s voice didn’t break. He didn’t care. Because he wouldn’t allow the Yakuza to hurt another person on this island. He wouldn’t…taking a deep breath, he gestured down the hall. “Come on, I’ll show you where you can get some sleep.”

“I want to find the people who are after me. I can’t do that if I’m taking a nap.”

“I get that, but you can’t be effective if you can barely stand, let alone think.” Danny walked over and tugged at Steve’s shirt sleeve. “Come on.”

Steve followed Danny into the second bedroom. “This belongs…well it belonged to my daughter, Grace. She’s attending college on the mainland. I’m divorced,” he added. 

Steve glanced at the walls covered in comic book and rock posters. “Are you sure?”

“Unless you want to bunk with me,” Danny joked. When Steve swallowed and quickly diverted his gaze, Danny’s heart pounded like a giant gong. “Grace’s bed is a twin, but you should still fit.”

Steve sat on the edge of the bed with a grimace. Danny added calling Noelani to his list of things to do. 

Not wanting to pressure him to relax, Danny headed out. “I’ll leave the door open.” Just in case _being inside a closed room freaks you out _was left unsaid.

* * *

Danny’s dining room served as his office. He needed the table to spread out files he hadn’t read in years. Charts outlining Yakuza operations in drugs, money laundering, and protection. Over three years of dismantling an organization, bit by bit. Somewhere in his notes could be a clue to his current case. 

He could try tracking down low-hanging fruit, known associates. Or maybe there was a new money trail? Although Toast seemed to be on that. What could be in his notes that could still be relevant today?

Locations. 

Using his laptop, Danny searched for the cleaners in the database of assets. Nothing. He tried various near-by addresses but came up empty. He wasn’t deterred. There had to be something. Danny started reviewing all real estate records associated with the Yakuza….

* * *

_The package was small. Brown paper, no return address. After being up all-night on a case it was a nice distraction from thinking about the drive home. Curious, how it ended up on his work desk._

_Using scissors, Danny cut open the ends. The package was small, the size of a jewelry box. Had someone sent him a gift?_

_Peeling away he ends, he opened the top and removed the fluffy cotton inside. He stared at the set of fingernails before his brain caught up to what his eyes were seeing. _

_“Jesus Christ!”_

Danny startled awake from where he’d fallen asleep on the table. Heart racing, he lifted his head, his hand reaching for a weapon that he didn’t have. 

“It’s just me.”

It took a second for his head to clear before realizing Steve was standing close-by, his sweat-drenched face staring at him in concern. 

“What?” Danny blinked several times. “What are you doing?” 

“I…I thought I was having a nightmare.” Steve swallowed, shuffling his feet. “But I think you’re the one who was.”

Rubbing his eyes, Danny leaned back against the chair. He hadn’t had that dream in a while. He glanced up at Steve and his red-rimmed eyes. “I think we both were?”

“You want to talk about it?”

“No.”

Steve nodded like he understood. 

Eddie barked, followed by a low-key whine. Shit. Danny had forgotten to let him out of the kitchen after he got home. 

Steve made his way toward the kitchen and opened the door before Danny could process what he was doing. 

Excited, Eddie ran circles around Steve. Barking, when Steve didn’t respond, Eddie spun around some more then leaped at Steve’s legs.

“Hey, no. Eddie, come here,” Danny commanded.

But there was a stranger in the house and Eddie didn’t see a lot of new people. He jumped at Steve in an attempt to get him to play.

“Platz,” Steve said, pointing at the dog.

Eddie stopped jumping and lowered his head. 

“Bleib.”

Eddie sat on the floor. Danny’s jaw dropped. “My dog knows German?” 

“It would appear so?”

He’d adopted Eddie less than a year ago and had no idea about his background. Yet, not only had Steve issued the commands naturally, Eddie had obeyed. “And you know German?”

“I…I know certain commands?” Steve seemed confused by his own admission. Sighing, he looked through the open door of the kitchen. “You hungry?”

Danny was running out of room for all the mental notes he was taking on his house guest. “Yeah, starving actually.”

* * *

It didn’t take long to heat up some left-over soup and make toast. Danny had no idea the last time Steve had real food, but he knew the guy needed to take some Advil at the very least, and maybe go back to bed. 

They sat on his sofa; a pair of empty bowls was shoved aside on the coffee table as Danny nibbled on the rest of his toast. Steve had eaten four slices and Danny thought maybe he should make some more, but Steve had begged off, saying he was full. 

It’d been a long day. Danny checked his wrist before realizing what it was missing. 

“Do you want it back?” Steve asked.

“Hmm?” 

“Your watch?” 

Steve began undoing the clasp. Danny laid his hand on Steve’s fingers, stopping him. “No. You keep it.”

Steve’s whole body stiffened from the physical contact, the tendons in his arms flexing. Danny’s eyes strayed to the healing abrasions around his wrists, the needle marks over his arms, and went to remove his hand. 

But Steve curled his fingers around Danny’s, keeping them together. Neither of them said a word, the silence settling comfortably around them, soft and warm. Danny felt his mouth go dry. He could hear his and Steve’s easy breathing, felt his lips twist into a smile that Danny shouldn’t be sharing. 

His phone vibrated inside his pocket and Danny wanted to roll his eyes at the fucking timing.

Steve released his hand. “You should probably get that.”

Grumbling in his head, Danny pulled out his phone and read the text message from Lou.

_A couple of suits just walked inside HQ._

Danny’s smile turned into a glower. He started texting back. _Suits? The Feds?_

_Maybe. BRB._

Fuck. No. No. No. He did not need this complication. This was his case. His team’s. The Feds were all bravado, always trying to take over. Screwing everything up. Why did Jameson…?

_Stall them, he _typed.

“What’s going on?”

Danny flicked his gaze at Steve. “I’ve got to go back to the office.”

“Why?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

“Bullshit.”

“I’m being honest. Something’s going on and I need to return.” 

Except. Shit. What was he going to do with Steve? It wasn’t like he could leave him alone, and there was no way he could go with Danny to work. 

Thinking, he brought up his contact list and quickly sent out a text. _If you’ve wrapped up at your scene, swing by my place ASAP._

_Okay. Can be there in 15, _came the response.

Danny sighed in relief. But Steve was broadcasting waves of tension. He needed to reassure him that everything would be fine. 

As if sensing his distress, Eddie got up and nuzzled Steve’s knee. And when that didn’t get the human’s attention, Eddie laid his head on Steve’s leg. 

Steve stared down at Eddie and rubbed his ears, but his gaze was still fixed on Danny’s. “You’re leaving.”

“Yeah. I…it’s important.”

“About my case. About _me._” Steve’s expression was murderous. 

“I can’t talk about it, Steve. I’m sorry.”

Steve’s nostrils flared, and he turned his head away. “This is my life, Danny. You don’t….” He shook his head. “You don’t have the right to keep things from me.”

“I will keep you up to date, I promise. This…this has to do more with man-power and resources; it’s not a break in the case.”

Eddie started licking Steve’s hands and Steve stroked his ears. But he didn’t say anything else to Danny.

“Look, a friend, a member of my team is stopping by to–”

“Babysit me.”

“No. But I’m not leaving you unprotected. Do you understand?”

“I don’t need protecting,” Steve snarled.

“No, you seem perfectly capable of defending yourself, but you’re also recovering. And I need peace of mind.”

“Peace of mind?”

“Yes. Because the last time I left someone alone when I shouldn’t have….” Danny closed his eyes, his heartburn returning with a vengeance. “Horrible things happened. And I will _not_ let them happen to you, too. I don’t care if that makes you mad or furious or whatever, because it means you’ll be alive to be upset, do you understand?”

Steve shifted in his seat, his mouth in a thin line, but his voice was soft when he said, “Yeah.”

“I know it sucks to feel like you’re being sidelined, but I need to take care of this. And when I come back, I’ll...I’ll fill you in on what I know. Okay?” Danny would share some aspects of the case with Steve, maybe not everything, but he would do his best. 

“Fine.” 

Danny’s phone vibrated again. Getting up, he went to the front door and unlocked it right before Tani could knock. 

“Hey boss, what’s up?”

Steve watched from the sofa as Tani strode inside. Danny closed and locked the door then proceeded with some quick introductions. 

“I got to say, you look better face-to-face,” Tani said with a smile. 

Steve leaned back into the sofa and bristled with displeasure. Eddie took it as his cue to jump up and snuggle up beside him. 

Danny pulled Tani aside. “Look, I need you to stay here while I take care of some stuff. I’d call Junior, but I think he’d just make Steve even more paranoid.”

If Tani was annoyed, she didn’t show it. “Cool. Maybe Steve here can show me some cool tricks with forks.”

“Stay out of my cutlery,” Danny warned. 

“You’re no fun.” Tani waltzed over and plopped down on the recliner opposite of Steve. “It’s okay, once he’s gone, I’ll show you where Danny hides all his guns. We can make a game of it.”

“I think Steve beat you to it,” Danny muttered. Lord, maybe he shouldn’t have let these two near each other. “Look, I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

Tani waved him away. Sighing, Danny glanced one more time at Steve, who was anything but relaxed, before heading toward his parking garage. 

His phone vibrated again with another text from Lou as he got to the car. 

_Feds have a warrant to search our files. I had Toast make them disappear. For now._

Danny skidded to a stop in front of the driver-side door. He’d forgotten about the stolen sedan. Sonofabitch. 

He was going to have one hell of a report to write up. But his new number one priority was to get rid of the FBI. He would _not _allow them to fuck everything up. 

Not like the last time.


	5. Chapter 5

* * *

Traffic was a bitch during this time of day, but it gave Danny the opportunity to play phone tag until he reached Noelani. After apologizing for turning her hospital into a scene from an action film, he got the run-down on what he needed to grab for Steve from the pharmacy.

_“He got his antibiotics earlier this morning. He’ll need his burns treated daily and he’ll need to keep up with his pain medication. And when he’s not in danger, he should have his shoulder examined by an orthopedist to see about the ligament damage.”_

“Thanks, Noelani.”

_“You owe me a lot of wine.”_

“Red or white?”

_“White. And I talked to Max. He’s willing to see Steve pro-bono. He’ll even make a house call.”_

“I thought he didn’t like talking to people?”

_“He doesn’t. But the case intrigues him, and he genuinely wants to help.”_

“Okay. I’ll keep in touch.”

After pulling into the HPD parking lot, Danny hoped he could make more progress without going to war with the FBI, although at this point, he was prepared for a long battle.

* * *

He’d barely entered the floor for the Special Activities Division before Junior met him halfway down the hall.

“I’m sorry, sir. I tried stalling, but she’s waiting for you.”

“Who?” Danny waved Junior away before he could explain. 

Storming inside his office, Danny noticed a woman in a tan business suit sitting in the chair in front of his desk.

“Can I help you?” 

“I don’t know, can you?” The woman stood and crossed her arms over her chest. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, revealing her serious expression. “Given how your team has been stonewalling me, I’m starting to wonder.”

Danny mirrored her defensive posture. “Given how this is my case, you can see why.”

“I’m not here to take away your case or to lock horns over credit. I’m here investigating the deaths of three Federal Agents. Is that good enough to put aside any machismo?”

“My condolences,” Danny said, taken aback. He cleared his throat. “How about we start over? I’m Detective Danny Williams.”

She took his outstretched hand and shook it.

“Lori Weston, Homeland Security. The rest of my team is reviewing the crime scene at the cleaners.” Danny bit his lip at the idea of more people, but he waited. Agent Weston took it as her cue to keep going. “Look. I know your history. The FBI botched handling your brother’s case in unforgivable ways. You don’t trust them, but I’m not a Fed. I’m Homeland and this is about national security.”

The acknowledgement of the Fed’s mishandling of Matt’s case still cut deep, but Danny took it as a positive step forward. “I appreciate your candor.”

“I deal direct, Detective.” Her features relaxed as she spoke. “The fingerprints you recovered from the cleaners, specifically the ones from the restraints and manacles, match two known foreign operatives. They also match those taken from a crime scene in Singapore where three agents were killed. Two CIA, one Homeland.”

This was not a direction in the case Danny had anticipated. “Do you have identities from the prints?”

“Yes, I brought their files because I want to work together on this.”

“How come their names didn’t pop up during our search?”

“Because the Federal Government is bureaucratic and, as much money as we pump into technology, sharing data is still woefully inadequate.”

Danny pressed his lips together, impressed at her frankness. “Okay, I accept that. Would you mind briefing my partner and I to save time?”

“I assume this will be part of a mutual sharing of information?” Weston canted her head, waiting on an answer. 

“Yes, it will.”

She looked at him in a way that made Danny think she didn’t believe him, but after a moment, she picked her briefcase off the floor. “Then, let’s proceed.”

* * *

Junior joined Danny around their conference table as Agent Weston pulled up pictures of two men on the computer screen. Danny studied their faces; they did not belong to any of the dead bodies at the morgue.

“The fingerprints found at the scene of the cleaners, specifically what I would call the interrogation room, belong to Leon Gusto and Jordan Bello. Both are high-level European criminals who put their services up to the highest bidder. Kidnapping, assault, and a couple of international contract killings. All in the EU, which I think explains why it took so long for their prints to be flagged. This was the first instance on US soil.”

“So, they’re the muscle, but not the brain?” Junior asked.

“That is my belief.” Weston brought up pictures of some of the chemical vials. “The DNA found on some of the syringes match DNA collected from under the fingernails of one of our agents. However, we do not know who it belongs to.”

“The agents who were killed in Singapore,” Danny began, “were they working a specific case?”

“I’m not sure.”

Danny was confused. “What do you mean?”

“It’s classified.”

Sharing an annoyed glance with Junior, Danny did his best to remain calm. “You’re investigating three murders and you don’t know what operation they were on?”

“It was a CIA op,” Weston replied.

Junior folded his arms over his chest but remained quiet. Danny had no problem expressing himself. “How are you even on the case?”

“The CIA is conducting their own investigation spanning all of Asia. I’m following up here.”

“On your own?” Danny pressed.

“With my team.”

Danny still hadn’t met this team and her answer didn’t alleviate his growing suspicion about her motivations. “What happened with sharing?”

“It takes two to share.”

“You have all our lab results, all our case files and hand-written notes.”

“And _you_ have John Doe.” Weston narrowed her eyes. “Or Steve, as he seems to remember.”

“I’m still trying to figure out why we’re not swimming with dozens of Feds?” There had been at least six on his brother’s case and this had international ramifications.

“I’m from the West coast office and have jurisdiction.” Weston nodded at the ceiling. “And I got it from your Captain.”

_Uh-huh._ Danny wasn’t convinced. He began regretting this little meeting. “You’re backpedaling.”

“The Homeland agent,” Weston swallowed, “was a friend of mine. We went to the Academy together. We were…close. She was just a geek, an analyst. And she was tortured, probably for hours.” Nostrils flaring, Weston glared at him. “And I want justice, okay?”

Danny could understand that need, that horrible desire. “I’m sorry for your loss. What was her name?”

“Agent Jenna Kaye. And the only person who might know anything about her murder has amnesia.” Weston looked between Danny and Junior. “Now, let’s talk about Steve and the black ops site where he was held.”

* * *

Danny chewed on the inside of his cheek as Weston examined the crime scene photos on the big screen, read his team’s reports, the hospital reports, and Eric’s lab results. 

“This Dr. Bergman estimated that John Doe–”

“Steve,” Danny corrected.

“That Steve had been abducted anywhere from two to four weeks ago?”

“That’s the guess,” Danny answered. “When were Agent Kaye and the others killed?”

“Twenty days ago.”

“Right under three weeks,” Junior said. “Are you thinking both crimes are connected?”

“It’s one possible avenue,” she replied.

Danny never pursued the Yakuza outside of the islands. He had no idea what their involvement could be in the murder of CIA and Homeland agents, but he knew their operations were global. He worried his lip in contemplation at the thought that they would hire European professionals. It didn’t make sense to him. 

“Steve has complete amnesia?” Weston asked. “No recollection of his past, no recent memories?”

“Nothing,” Danny answered.

“But he maintains complete cognitive abilities? Speech, reading, social interactions.”

“Yeah.” Danny was getting frustrated going over all the same ground. “Why?”

Weston shook her head as she flipped through Danny’s notes on the crime scenes. “Such behavioral conditioning is…rare. Theoretical.”

“Behavioral conditioning?” Danny’s face heated with anger. “What is that? What was done to him?”

“I don’t know specifics, Detective. Whatever it was…was sophisticated. The knowledge and patience needed to properly administer such drugs is hard to come by.” She glanced at one of the crime scene photos of the white room. “Iran and North Korea have used white rooms to punish journalists or dissidents. It strips the victim of all physical and mental stimulation, confuses them, alters their sense of time. It can make people go insane.”

“Steve isn’t insane.”

“No, that would take months of twenty-four-hour exposure. Based on Steve’s other injuries and the various drugs in his system, I think it was used for other reasons.”

“Like what?” Junior asked.

“I don’t know. I need to interview him.”

“No,” Danny growled.

Weston was not deterred. “Steve is a person of interest in several Federal crimes, not to mention involved in two killings that we know of.”

“You mean he’s a _victim_,” Danny corrected. “And those two deaths were done in self-defense.”

“His prints have not shown up in any criminal records, or government permits, yet he’s at the center of a very expensive covert operation.” She quirked an eyebrow. “Do you really think he’s the boy next door?”

Junior made a noise in the back of his throat and Danny shot him an annoyed look before returning his attention to Agent Weston. “I know that he can’t a take shower for more than two minutes or allow himself to sleep because he doesn’t know what will happen when he wakes up. So, maybe I don’t want him to be interrogated anymore.”

* * *

Danny paced inside his office. His skin was hot, his head pounded. 

“You know she’s probably right,” Junior commented. “Even without his memory, Steve doesn’t act like a civilian.”

“The thought has occurred to me.”

“Talking to Steve might help figure out who is after him. And it’s obvious you want what is best, given you’re acting all….”

“Acting all what?” 

Danny’s phone started vibrating again, but he waited on Junior to finish his sentence. When Junior hesitated, Danny arched an eyebrow. 

“Acting like a grizzly bear protecting his—” 

Danny’s phone started vibrating. “Williams,” he growled.

_“Whoa, dude,”_ Tani replied. _“It’s just me.”_

“Is everything all right?”

_“Yeah, fine. I just wanted you to know that I recognized one of the properties in your database search.”_

“What are you talking about?”

_“You left your laptop on with a list of properties owned by the Yukuza. I recognized one of them from when Junior and I were canvassing restaurants around the cleaners. A little grocery store that has a deli.”_

“It could be where the people who held Steve captive went to eat.” Yes. Finally, a small break in the case. “That’s good work.” Danny stopped pacing. “Wait. Weren’t you supposed to be—” 

_“Babysitting? Yeah, no.”_

“What have you two been doing? Did you really search my place for weapons?”

_“I plead the fifth.”_

“Oh, my God.”

She snickered. _“We’ve been playing cards. Oh, then we discovered your research. I’ve never seen anyone go through such a large amount of paper-work in so little time. That was until he got a raging headache and I sent him to bed.”_

“Did he take more Advil?”

_“What’d you take me for? Oh, when we finally get a bead on these assholes, I want in on taking them out.”_

“Yeah, get in line.” Danny clicked his phone off and pointed a finger at Junior. “Were you about to say cub? I am not treating him like a cub; he is definitely not a cub.”

“I never said, cub, sir. But you’ve taken quite the…shine to him.”

Not wanting to dignify that statement with an answer, Danny turned around and watched Weston through the window as she spoke on her cellphone.

What the hell was he going to do? Weston had a compelling reason to be invested in this case. Her passion seemed genuine, but he had no reason to trust her. Danny worked his jaw back and forth. Although, if she had a team with her, then she had some spare manpower….

* * *

Agent Weston stared at him like he’d asked for a free car. “You want my team to run surveillance on a deli?”

“Call it a test.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“You said you like to deal direct; I need to know if I can trust you. I need a team on that deli.”

“I want to interview Steve.” She started shuffling around files on the table inside the conference room. “And I don’t have to ask, you know. It’s not hard to figure out where he’s being stashed given the needed security.”

“He hasn’t strung enough hours together for any decent sleep.”

“He survived torture; I think you’re underestimating his fortitude.” Weston contemplated Danny. “Do you know what they did to Agent Kaye? They administered barbiturates into one arm and amphetamines into the other. It’s a very effective technique, you see. The barbiturates are released first, and as soon as the subject begins to fall asleep, the amphetamines are injected.” She stared at him her voice warbling. “Have you ever seen someone just…babble incoherently? Be so confused they don’t know where they are? Give up their deepest, darkest secrets without realizing it?”

She swallowed and shoved a piece of hair out of her face. “Do you really think you’re doing Steve any good by hiding him away from what was done to him?”

Danny struggled to keep his voice even. The cop in him knew she was right, but another part, the softer one, wanted to keep him safe from the truth. “What makes you think you can help him?”

“I think I know the right questions to ask.”

He didn’t want Weston involved, but this was bigger than his personal demons. “Okay,” Danny agreed. Hoping that maybe this could provide the answers Steve needed. 

“Good. Thank you.”

Danny’s phone vibrated and he looked down at a text message from Lou.

_How long am I supposed to be hanging out with Toast?_

Danny typed a quick reply. _I’m leaving in five minutes. See if he can do anything with the names Weston gave us. Gusto and Bello. Maybe Toast can trace any money transfers._

_On it. _Lou texted back. 

Weston waited for him at the door. “Everything all right?”

“Peachy. Let’s go. I’ll let Tani know we’re coming.”

* * *

There were multicolored plastic chips in a pile in the middle of the coffee table. Most of them were in neat stacks nearest where Steve sat. “You guys were playing poker?” Danny had half expected his place to have been torn apart in a secret weapons’ quest.

“This guy is a shark,” Tani said, pointing at Steve. “Don’t let the injured bird look fool you.”

Steve watched every move Weston made as he observed them from the sofa. Eddie sat on the floor by his feet. It was nice to know the dog had taken to Steve. 

“Look, I know this awkward, but let me start. I’m Agent Lori Weston, but you can call me Lori.” She put her briefcase onto the floor and sat in the recliner across from Steve. “Is it okay if we have a chat, Steve?”

“If it’ll help me figure out what the hell has been happening? Sure. Have at it.”

Weston glanced over at Danny, Junior, and Tani. But they were not going to retreat. This was Danny’s home, his team’s case. He sat on the corner of the sofa to give Steve space, and Tani took the other chair. Junior stood by the door. 

“I sometimes find it helpful if you close your eyes. It helps tune things out, you know?” Weston told Steve.

“No.”

“I’m sorry?” Weston seemed genuinely confused. 

Steve shifted in his seat. “I said, no.”

“It helps to cut off outside stimuli to –“

“Babe, it’s okay,” Danny interrupted Weston. He shot her an apologetic glance before looking at Steve. “You’re inside my home with me and my team. You can get up anytime you want. You’re in control.”

Glancing between Danny and Weston, Steve seemed to consider the idea, his posture relaxing minutely. “Okay. Want me to lie on the sofa, too?”

“If it helps.”

Steve closed his eyes, but he remained sitting up. 

“What do you smell right now?” she asked. 

Steve’s eyebrows rose. “Serious?”

“Yes.”

“Coffee from Tani’s mug. Her perfume…your perfume. Yours is stronger. I can smell Eddie, not bad, just you know. Dog smell.”

“What else?”

“Fabric softener from the shirt I’m wearing. Ointment from my chest…the mouthwash I borrowed from Danny’s bathroom.”

“What about Detective Williams?”

The hint of a smile brightened Steve’s face; he slumped further into his seat. “Menthol and tiger grass from his shower gel. Something like…sandalwood. From his aftershave.”

Danny noticed that was more specific than the perfume description Steve had used to describe Tani and Weston. 

“Now think back to a few days ago, to the room you slept in. The cot under your body, the lone light in the ceiling. Do you remember what it smelled like in there?”

Steve’s grin disappeared. “No.”

“Was it vanilla?”

“I don’t know.”

“Was it damp? Musky?”

Steve sat up straighter, his eyes squeezed even tighter. “I don’t remember.”

“What about the men who came inside?” Weston asked keeping her voice steady. “Did they have a distinct odor? You had close contact with them. It was unpleasant. I’m sure you associated smells and sounds with each other, gave them nicknames in your head.”

“No.”

“Were there shadows? Voices?”

“Nothing.” Steve breathed hard through his nose. “It’s…all a blur.”

“A blur of color? Sounds?”

“I don’t remember.”

Weston rested her elbows on her knees and leaned forward, watching his face. “What is the last thing you remember, Steve?”

“Being inside the back of the truck.”

The hair along the back of Danny’s neck stood on end. 

“There was someone else inside with you in the truck,” Weston said. “What was he doing?”

“Sitting beside me.”

“And what were you doing?”

“I…I don’t remember…it’s just fragments.”

“Something happened though.”

Steve began playing with the fabric of his sweatpants. “The truck stopped moving.”

“And what did that mean when it stopped?”

“It meant…I had to move.”

“And what about the man beside you?”

“He was an obstacle.”

“And what did you do to the obstacle?”

Steve twisted the sweatpants material between his fingers. “I got rid of it.”

“And after you got rid of the obstacle, then what?”

“I needed to exfil.”

Junior’s head perked up. Danny shared a look with him at Steve’s wording.

Weston was a pro; she kept her tone calm, kept pushing. “And what are the steps to exfil?”

Sweat beaded in Steve’s hairline, his complexion paling. “Remove myself from the target site then immediately relocate out of a hostile environment and go to a secured area under friendly control.”

“And did you accomplish your objective?”

Steve’s eyes flew open, his breathing increasing as he glanced around the room. His gaze slowly settled on Danny and his breaths became even. “I did.”

“Steve, are you still in danger?”

“Yes.”

“From who?” Weston was on the very edge of her seat. “Do you remember any of the questions the subjects asked you?”

“If I did, I would tell you.”

Weston opened her briefcase and pulled out three pictures. Two male and one female. “Do you recognize any of these people?”

Steve leaned over and studied them. “No….” Biting his lip, his face scrunched up as he looked at the last photo. 

“Are you sure?” Weston asked hopeful, her voice betraying her emotion. 

“Who is she?” Steve asked.

Weston watched Steve closely. “Agent Jenna Kaye.”

“Do I know her?”

“Does it feel like you do?”

Steve rubbed a finger over Agent Kaye’s face. “I…maybe…but I just….” He squeezed his eyes closed.

“What is it, Steve?” Weston asked, concerned. 

He cradled his head with both his hands. “Nothing.” Steve grunted, bending over. His breathing more labored. 

“That’s not nothing,” Danny growled.

Weston held out her hand, cutting Danny off. “Are you experiencing pain, Steve?”

Danny threw out his arms. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“Is it pain or is it a memory?”

Steve clamored to his feet. “I don’t know!”

Eddie barked and rubbed his head against Steve’s knees.

Weston stood up. “Have you ever been to Singapore, Steve?”

“How the hell should I know?” 

“It’s okay. We’re okay. Just one more question,” she said. “Xiànzài shì jǐ diǎn?”

Steve looked at his watch. “It’s almost six.” Eyes narrowing, he looked between everyone in the room. “How did I know the answer to that?”

“Because you know Cantonese, or at least some basic vocab.”

Steve’s face went stark white. He ran into the bathroom before anyone said a word.

Danny followed, hot on his heels. He could hear Steve retching from behind the closed door. 

Torn with indecision, he stalked back into his living room. “Do you want to tell me what just happened?”

Weston had the decency to look upset at what transpired. “I only have a guess, but my gut says it was a reaction to his behavioral modification.”

“Again, what does that mean?” Danny asked, spreading his arms wide open.

“I don’t know.”

“You’re the one who just set him up!”

“I didn’t set him up,” Weston snapped. “But you’ve interviewed him, doctors have interviewed him, and we got nothing from it.”

“And now?”

She looked at him like he was an idiot. “Part of him remembered something, a fragment, a piece of memory.”

“He spoke like he’s served,” Junior said, pushing away from the wall where he’d been quietly observing. “No one talks about exfiltration like that unless they’ve been deployed or worked with the military. It’s kind of what I’ve suspected all along.”

“But his prints didn’t show up in any military records,” Tani reminded them.

“Part of me wonders if they’ve been removed,” Weston said.

Junior’s eyes went wide. “Whoa. That is very difficult to do.”

“Yeah, it is.” Weston rifled through her briefcase. “I’d like to continue this line of inquiry.”

“With what?” Danny growled. “More armchair psychiatry?”

“No, but I might confer with this Dr. Bergman, see if we could come up with a better method.” Weston checked her phone. “My team has finished with the cleaners. I really think a more detailed dialogue with Steve will only be beneficial to the case.”

“I’m not just a case.” Steve walked back into the living room, his complexion still gray but his eyes determined. “Those pictures you showed me. Those people. What happened to them?”

“They were murdered. I think by some of the people connected with your abduction.” 

“I want to know who they are,” Steve told her.

“I’d like to share that with you, but I think it best under medical supervision. I think together, we’ll figure it out.” Weston paused at the doorway. “I’m sorry for the distress I caused.”

Danny caught her before she exited. “This wasn’t a real interview, was it? You wanted to find out if he was faking it.”

“It was both. Now, I know. And maybe after today we can all work together for real. Including the hacker who is stashed in the basement.” Danny clenched his teeth. Weston considered him. “I’m not a monster. I know Steve needs help. But, I think this was a good first step and together we can get justice for everyone.”

Weston exited, leaving Danny with a hell of a lot more questions than answers. Turning around, he found Junior sitting where Weston had been, watching Steve with curiosity. Steve clearly found the attention distracting.

“Is there something you need?” Steve asked, agitated.

“No, sir. But I think there is something you might find helpful.” 

Junior walked toward the dining room, pulled out the large gun case Danny kept hidden behind one of the curio cabinets, and brought it over.

Using the combination Danny had given him, Junior pulled out the disassembled parts of an ACR assault rifle and put them on the table. “If you don’t mind, sir. Would you assemble this?”

Steve darted his eyes from the pieces to Junior’s face. “I’m not a dancing bear.”

“No, sir.” Junior walked toward Tani and stood beside her. 

Steve sat on the edge of the sofa and traced the outline of the barrel. Rubbing the metal, he looked over at Junior, then Danny. 

Closing his eyes, he joined the barrel with the receiver. Then connected the bolt carrier and related springs. Followed by the magazine, magazine well, the trigger group. Steve’s fingers danced over each piece with ease, reference. He reset the rifle into the stock then began tightening it down…all in under sixty seconds. 

“I think I’m turned on,” Tani said.

Junior’s jaw hung open and he seemed to have pulled himself together enough to look over at Steve, who seemed both perplexed and a bit nervous that he’d just assembled an assault rifle an under a minute with his eyes closed.

“That’s very impressive, sir.” Junior was smiling in awe. 

Steve sat back against the sofa looking anything other than impressed. 

“All right, it’s been a long day,” Danny began. “Why don’t we meet back at HQ in the morning?”

Tani tapped Junior on the shoulder. “I’ll give you a ride home.”

“Let’s do a perimeter sweep first.” Junior nodded at Danny. “I went to the pharmacy for you guys and put everything on the kitchen counter.”

Danny patted him on the shoulder. “Thanks, partner.”

Junior glanced at Steve, who was staring off into space. “I might ask some of my old buddies about him. I’ll use pics from the hospital.” Lingering, he ducked close to Danny’s ear. “I think we should alert your security of an increased threat level. Have them keep an eye out.”

It was the last thing Danny wanted, but he gave a curt nod. Junior clapped him on the back and Tani gave Danny a quick smile. “We’ll check in with Weston on that deli surveillance before we go home.”

“Thanks, guys.” Danny had the best team. 

Hovering by the door, Danny contemplated his next move. 

Steve started disassembling the rifle and put it back inside the lockbox. “You know, I admit that I’m the center of a very big puzzle. But you’re kind of a big mystery yourself.” 

Danny froze at Steve’s words, his heart beating faster.

Pushing the box away, Steve stared at him. “Are you going to tell me why you live in a secured complex and have weapons stashed everywhere? Or are you the only one allowed to ask questions?”

Lord knew Steve deserved an answer, but Danny wasn’t sure if he could give away that part of himself yet. To anyone. And he knew it was damn unfair. But no, not…not yet.


	6. Chapter 6

* * *

Danny did everything he could to avoid Steve’s questioning glances. He cleaned up the playing cards and returned the gun case back to its hiding place. After only taking up five minutes, he searched the living room for anything else to organize as Steve wandered around behind him, snooping.

“Your team seems nice.” Steve picked up a picture from the book case; it was the one taken at the HPD picnic. “Tani doesn’t seem like a cop.”

“Oh?”

“She has an R-rated sense of humor.”

Danny snorted. “Cops can’t be funny?”

“I guess.” Steve ran a finger along the spines of some of Danny’s books. “Junior seems uptight. Ex-military?”

“Former Navy SEAL.”

Steve’s brow furrowed, and he rubbed at his temples. “I bet there’s a story behind that job hire.”

“There is.” But Danny wasn’t ready to discuss his partner’s past. “He’s impressive. Young. He needed, you know, a connection.”

“And you gave him one.”

Steve’s words filled Danny’s chest with unexpected pride. “I’m trying. He’s an excellent partner.”

“I’m glad you have such good people watching your back.”

Would Steve stop saying things that made Danny’s heart swell? And the smile he gave him, like he’d known Danny for a million years. 

“And Lou Grover,” Danny added. “You’ll meet him soon enough.” 

Because Steve couldn’t stay at his home forever. At some point Steve would need to come down to HQ to help with the case and…hell, he didn’t want to think about that right now.

Steve held up another picture, obviously unaware of Danny’s wandering thoughts. “Are these your kids?”

Pain squeezed Danny’s heart and his throat ran dry. “Grace is my daughter. Rachel is my ex-wife. That’s Stan, her husband, and their son, Charlie.” It killed him to utter those last words.

Steve reached toward another framed picture when Danny cleared his throat. “Do you want to help me prepare dinner?”

Danny didn’t wait for a response. Walking through the dining room, he thought about putting away all the case files he’d pulled out, but Steve began poking at one of the boxes. 

“It seems like you’ve been investigating the Yakuza for a few years.”

Danny stepped dead in his tracks as he stared at the papers Steve was rifling through. Even after all this time, his heart burned bright with anger. “It takes a lot of manpower to dismantle organized crime with deep pockets.”

“But your team did.”

Danny thought they had.

Steve stared at the not so hidden gun stash behind the curio cabinet before looking around the apartment. “Is that the reason for living inside the Fortress of Solitude?” 

“Do you know anything about the Yakuza?”

“Not much. Just what I was helping Tani with earlier.”

“Then consider yourself lucky,” Danny growled. Wiping both hands down his face, he counted to five and tried to shake off the anger lingering inside his chest. “Come on, let’s make pizza.”

* * *

Danny focused on what he needed to prepare the dough, but Steve was like a dog with a new bone.

“The Yakuza used Hawaii as a kind of midway station between Japan and the mainland?” Danny searched the cabinet and pulled things out, but Steve kept talking. “Tani said their main thing was smuggling meth onto the islands and smuggling weapons back to Japan.”

Danny moved around where Steve stood in front of the sink. “You win a cupie doll.” 

“Did you go after the meth? The production or transportation?”

Danny pulled out a bowl and set it on the counter. He turned toward Steve and put his hands on his hips. “Are you still talking about this?”

“I’m guessing both,” Steve continued, like he was studying Danny’s reactions. “I’m also guessing you pissed some people off in the process.”

For fuck’s sake. Steve did not know how to take a hint. Then again, he had proven to be an obstinate SOB. Guess he had to be, given he was still alive and breathing. 

Danny leaned against the edge of his kitchen island. “The Yakuza have clans and these clans have, you know, a family structure. Kind of like a Mafia. There’s one patriarch who rules the clan. Note I said _clan_,” he said holding up a finger. “And this patriarch has lieutenants, under-bosses and mini gang leaders running around all over the damn place. 

But you see, the key to the hierarchy is the head guy acts like a surrogate father and his gang members are his surrogate children. And it’s those whole fucked up father-son roles that bind all the clans together.”

Steve nodded. “Makes it easier to manipulate people.”

“Exactly. In return for absolute loyalty and a ridiculous amount of obedience, the boss provides advice and protection, not to mention respect. It’s all about honor with these gang members, which is bullshit because they are anything but honorable.”

Danny pressed his lips together, anger boiling beneath his skin, the urge to hit something growing. “And this honor includes punishments. If you fail the boss, you’re lucky if you kicked out.” He snorted. “Mostly they chop your finger off for every failure, and if that doesn’t work they kill you and your family and your friends. So, you see, loyalty is more like living under the constant threat of death.”

Danny waited for Steve to call him crazy or chastise him for doing something that stupid; instead, he looked at Danny with such an intense expression of admiration, it made his heart thump against his chest. 

“Sounds like you have to be the biggest bad-ass in the world to take them on.”

“Or have a lot of pent up anger.”

Steve chuckled then looked down at the floor before he swallowed. When he spoke again, his voice was softer. “And you think they’re connected to my case?”

“I don’t know.”

“But your gut says –”

“My gut says that it’s time for you to help me make this pizza or we’re not going to eat.”

* * *

Danny put on his apron, then he tossed one to Steve, who quickly tied it in place. He reminded himself to get Steve some new clothes. He had to be tired of wearing some borrowed grey t-shirt and sweatpants. The black apron looked good on him, though, and Danny felt his thoughts go astray.

“Okay,” Danny said, clapping his hands. He pointed at a bag of flour. “The flour's protein content is incredibly important for pizza, especially when you plan to toss it. Bread flour is great, or pizza flour with a protein content of at least 12.5%.”

“High protein flour. Got it.”

“We should mix cold water, sugar, salt, and olive oil in a separate bowl.”

Steve folded his arms over his chest, flexing his biceps in the process, the ink of his tattoos peeking out. “Um, that doesn’t look like a bowl of that stuff. In fact, there isn’t even a bowl.”

“Well, no, I made the dough last night when I couldn’t sleep.” Danny pointed at his refrigerator. “It needs to cool overnight to allow the gluten to develop.”

Holding up the mound of dough, Danny continued. “I brushed this with olive oil last night.”

Steve patted down his sweatpants. “Should I get a paper and pen to take notes?”

“Do you want to learn how to make good pizza dough or not, smart ass?”

“I’d listen to anything you had to say.”

Danny wasn’t sure if his mouth hung open or not, but it took all his will power to focus on cooking. He looked down at the blob of dough and began digging his thumbs and fingers into it. “You should knead the dough by hand until it is glossy and tacky, but not sticky.”

Massaging the dough, he felt Steve stand behind him, his breath ghosting over the back of Danny’s neck, his chest brushing the back of Danny’s shoulders. “Tacky, but not sticky,” Steve repeated.

“You sound like a parrot.” Danny had nowhere to go, the island in front of him, and he could feel Steve’s body heat coming off in waves. “You should be able to pinch a small piece and pull it thin enough to let light pass through.” 

He snagged a portion and stretched it out, holding it up for Steve to see. Steve took the offered piece from Danny’s hands, all the hair along Danny’s arm standing on end from the contact. 

Relinquishing the piece, Danny focused on the ball of dough on the table, his blood pumping so loud, he was sure it was audible in the kitchen. “You should slap the ball of dough with your hand kept as flat as possible.”

He started pounding the ball with the palms of his hands. _Slap, slap, slap,_ his breathing increasing.

“Are you trying to kill it?”

“No. I’m _not._” But Steve hadn’t budged, and Danny swore he knew exactly what he was doing, testing Danny, just like he’d been winding him up over the bowl. “Don't press too hard, or you'll squeeze out the air and create a hard, dense crust.”

Steve snorted. 

Danny did his best to follow his own instructions. “Just press until it is relatively flat, but still squishy.”

“May I?” 

Steve didn’t wait for Danny’s answer. He moved until he stood beside him, practically glued to Danny’s side. Steve’s hands were large, his fingers calloused, and they were amazing to watch push the dough, thinning it out. 

“Keep your fingers straight and together,” Danny said, his voice scratchy.

Obeying, Steve laid his hands flat, creating a groove, fanning the dough out. And yeah, Danny imagined how those fingers would feel on his skin, against his muscles. 

“Rotate the dough a little, then repeat this fanning motion around the whole edge.”

Steve concentrated on his work, his lips parted as he fanned and pressed the dough into a nice circle. 

“Now, if you’ll allow me….” Using his hip, Danny nudged Steve out of the way, enjoying the feel of his leg against Steve’s. “I’m going to toss the dough.”

Smiling at himself, Danny glanced at Steve. “Bring your palm up and around, until the back of your hand is in front of your face. Follow with your fist to continue supporting the pizza, but focus on your palm, which will do the tossing.”

He spun the dough over his palm, spinning at the speed of his rotating hands. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Steve watching him, his face relaxed, his gaze straying to Danny’s flexing arms. 

Danny caught the dough with both fists and forearms. He kept up the motion, spinning it in his hands, tossing it in the air, catching it with his arms. Over and over until he had a large, flat piece.

Carefully, he eased the pizza crust onto the table, his adrenaline pumping. “Now, it’s ready for the sauce and mozz.”

But Steve wasn’t looking at the dough; he was staring at Danny, inching closer, until they stood toe to toe. Steve reached over, brushing his hands over Danny’s collarbone, and Danny reciprocated, his fingers touching Steve’s heavy stubbled cheeks. 

Canting his head, Danny moved toward Steve’s lips before his brain aborted the movement. _Shit_.

He ducked away and hurried to the far corner of the kitchen. “I, uh…can finish the prep work if you want to relax in the living room.”

“Danny….”

“You’ve had a long day. Hell, we both have. Our brains are fried.”

“I’m sorry, Danny.”

“No need. Nothing to apologize for. We’re tired.” Steve still looked dejected. “It has nothing to do…I mean, I’m not straight. It’s just, you know….I’m on the job.”

Steve looked at Danny, his shoulders slumped. A world-weary expression added wrinkles to his forehead. “You don’t need to explain yourself. Hell, I have no idea if I’m….I’m just acting on how I feel, how I…” He shook his head. “Nevermind. It’s not important. I’ll go relax on the sofa.”

“Steve…” Danny said, but Steve walked out of the kitchen.

Frustrated and angry and so damn torn, Danny grabbed the only thing nearby and threw a dishrag across the kitchen until it smacked the wall. It didn’t make him feel one iota better. In fact, all he wanted was to pound his fists against the table.

Knowing that wouldn’t fix anything, he stormed toward one of the cabinets in search of the spices.

* * *

They ate pizza in silence. Danny didn’t want to aggravate the situation and Steve didn’t feel the need to use words. Danny turned on the TV until he found a football game.

Eddie trotted over and lay on the floor between them, Danny on the sofa and Steve on the recliner. 

After an hour, Steve rose to his feet, grimacing.

“I have your meds. They’re on the dining room table,” Danny said, getting to his feet, too.

“I’ll get them.” Steve waved him away and walked like he was ninety years old. “Thank you for dinner. I’m…I’ll head to bed.”

Danny wanted to say more. He wanted to remind Steve that Danny was a cop and Steve was in his protection. But he knew a conversation about ethics vs. want wouldn’t go over well and decided maybe to broach the topic in the morning.

Or maybe never. _Probably_ never.

* * *

Danny was attuned to the sounds of his place and knew immediately the loud crashing from down the hall was not normal. In fact, it sounded very human. While part of him wanted to jump out of bed, the other waited, listening. Because if Steve was up and about and Danny came out carrying a weapon—bad things might happen. 

Instead he laid awake, paying attention to every creaking sound, noting someone was definitely walking about. One minute, two minutes, five minutes of silence. Which didn’t make sense, because if Steve got up to go to the bathroom, he hadn’t returned to bed. 

Sleep wouldn’t return, and Danny’s brain was racing. Maybe Steve was getting a snack, or watching TV, or maybe...maybe he was making a run for it in the middle of the night. 

Pushing his sheets aside, Danny stood up, his bare feet touching the floor. He did not grab his weapon from the nightstand.

Eddie jumped down next to him and followed along as Danny quietly made his way out of his room and into the hallway. 

It felt like walking through a minefield, wondering if at any minute he would startle Steve in the dark. Except Steve was nowhere to be seen. The door to Grace’s bedroom was ajar and he peered inside. Nothing.

A noise came from the living room; it sounded like…a whimper? 

Eddie trotted ahead of Danny.

Waiting for his eyes to adjust to the shadows, Danny walked to the edge of the living room. He recognized harsh, rapid breathing.

“Steve?”

The breathing hitched.

“I’m turning on the lamp,” Danny announced. 

Switching the light on, Danny took in the scene before him. Steve sat on the floor with his back against the sofa, wrapped in a blanket while clutching Danny’s Glock in his right hand, the barrel pointing at the floor.

“Steve, lower the weapon.”

Steve narrowed his eyes at Danny, his breathing shaky. The Glock quivered in his hands. 

“It’s me, Danny. You are in my apartment on Oahu. I am not going to harm you.”

Steve squinted at him, his breathing slowing with every passing second. Then, like flipping a switch, his dazed expression turned into dawning realization. “Danny…I’m…I’m sorry.” He dropped the weapon and slid it across the floor. “I’m so sorry.”  
`   
Danny grabbed the gun, released the clip, emptied the chamber, and put it on the bookshelf. He slowly approached Steve.

“God, Danny…I’m so sorry…I….”

“Sssshhh, it’s all right. No harm.” Holding his hands out, Danny slowly sat on the floor beside Steve. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. Jesus. I could have…I could have shot you.”

“But you didn’t.” Steve began trembling harder, the blanket falling from his bare shoulders. It took a moment before Danny realized Steve had not only brought his blanket, but his pillow, too. “Were you just…camping out here?”

“Um…. Yeah…I…the bed, it was too small…too confining. It made me feel…” Steve wiped a hand over his face. “I couldn’t breathe.”

Danny carefully draped the blanket back over around Steve’s shoulders. “You were shackled to a small cot for days, maybe even a couple of weeks. I should have thought about that.”

“But it’s your daughter’s bed and I wasn’t restrained.”

“Your brain doesn’t know any better.”

“Yeah?” Steve sucked in a stuttering breath. “When is it not going to be so fucked up? When will I wake up not shaking because I’m scared out of my head?”

“I don’t know, but at some point, you’ll feel better. Maybe not tomorrow or next week, but it’ll happen.”

“What if it doesn’t?” Steve wrapped his arms around himself. “What if I can’t sleep in a normal bed or take a shower without….” He snapped his mouth shut. 

“It’s…” Danny licked his lips. “May I touch you?”

Steve nodded. Danny wrapped an arm around Steve’s shoulders and drew him closer, trying to give him the comfort he desperately needed while careful of his ribs. He leaned against the back of the sofa. “I’m sorry this is happening to you. Trauma...it’s...it’s awful, but we can heal from it.”

Steve’s body shook in earnest now. He needed an anchor, something to latch onto. Danny released a heavy breath, because he knew he could give Steve another lifeline. “A year after my family and I moved to Hawaii, my brother moved here, too. See, he was this big shot hedge fund, banker guy, and he was sick of living in New York. He moved here…and, um, got involved with some bad people.”

Steve’s breath caught. “The Yakuza.”

“Yeah. See, the Yakuza do normal banking, too. Mixing up legitimate business with illegal so it’s hard to tell the difference. Using Western financial intuitions to help conceal things. But, if you try to swindle them because you’re an idiot….” Danny took a breath, tried controlling the timbre of his voice. “When Matt came clean about the embezzling, I did what any cop would. I went to the FBI, who were already knee-deep building a case against my brother.”

“What happened?” Steve asked, his shaking beginning to taper.

“I trusted the system. And they…put Matt’s balls in a vice. Made him wear a wire not once, but four times. They didn’t listen to his objections and forced him into situations he wasn’t comfortable with because he couldn’t lie worth a damn.” Danny felt himself begin to shake. “He went to a meeting with the head of Yakuza on the islands, Hiro Noshimuri. He never arrived. His car blew up on route.”

Steve rubbed his hand up and down Danny’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“Hiro had him killed. But I’m an accessory. I pushed him toward the FBI, told him to trust them, to trust _me._” Tears filled his eyes. “I held him when he was scared, helped place the wire to his fucking chest…and when I suspected that the Feds were screwing with Matt’s welfare, I acquiesced to their assurances. I put faith in the law...in _them_….”

“It wasn’t your fault, Danny. You tried to help him the best way you knew how.”

“If I’d….”

“No. There are no _ifs._ You can’t predict the future and you can’t take the blame for something you didn’t do. The Yakuza hurt him, not you.”

Danny nodded; he’d heard these very words before. Knew there was a kernel of truth to them, but still had stomach and stress-related ailments as a result. 

Steve shifted his weight, but he didn’t move away, his shoulder still touching Danny’s. “Is that why you started –”

“SAD?” Danny chortled. “Yeah, after I climbed my way out of the bottom of a bottle. Captain Jameson, in her guilt, helped me create it so we could take down Noshimuri.”

“And you went after him.”

“We went to _war_.” God. “And it was bloody. I took his organization apart piece by piece, month after month, year after year. Bodies piled up on both sides. At least two dozen in Noshimuri’s clan were killed in various shootouts and encounters. Six HPD officers died during all kinds of raids.” Danny rubbed at the ache flaring in his left shoulder. “I got shot once during an attempted professional hit.... My car blew up. Luckily the timer was messed up.”

Steve’s hand kept stroking Danny’s arm. “Your family—"

“Were in constant danger. Grace had to be escorted everywhere. Patrol cars followed my wife to work. My daughter had to be home-schooled…then one day…she was kidnapped.”

But Danny wouldn’t tell Steve why; he wouldn’t tell him how Danny’s escalation had lead to retaliatory escalation...how Danny was part of the reason why Grace had nightmares for months. 

“But you found her, right?” Steve tugged at Danny until he was leaning against him. “Grace is safe…?”

“Yeah. We did. After two harrowing days, after I threw a guy off a roof and after a lot of property damage, we found her. She goes to college on the mainland, lives in a studio apartment that belongs to my ex-partner.” Danny released a heavy sigh. “Chin-Ho keeps an eye on her just in case….”

Steve must have put two and two together. “Your divorce…?”

“Rachel couldn’t handle the stress and it wasn’t safe for my family to be around me.”

“So, this place….”

“The governor and Captain Jameson help pay for it out of the department budget. Given how my team had made over forty arrests and put a stop to meth trafficking, protection rackets….”

“What about Noshimuri?”

Danny chortled again. “He was killed.”

Steve wet his lips. “Did you…?”

“No, pieces of him were sent to me in the mail.” Danny shuddered in memory of the grotesque contents of various boxes. “His murder is still unsolved.”

“Jesus.”

“Funny isn’t it?” Danny wiped at his eyes. “I spent almost four years trying to take him down and someone else did it for me.”

“Someone sent you his body parts and then…what? Nothing?”

“Unsettling, isn’t it?”

“That’s the reason why you’re still living here…in a secured complex.”

“Yeah, I can’t take a chance. If I wanted any life with Grace, I needed to guarantee her protection to Rachel, then with Stan.” 

“And the weapon stashes?”

“Years of paranoia.”

It was Steve’s turn to laugh. “You know, you’re not exactly making a case about it getting better.”

“This _is better_.” Danny gave Steve a wan grin. “But seriously, there were nights when I couldn’t get more than two hours of sleep. Where I saw bad guys everywhere, where I thought about….” He shook his head. “I’d do anything to keep my family safe.”

Swallowing, Danny slipped his hand into Steve’s. “And I’m going to make sure we get the people who hurt you.”

“Because it’ll provide you closure,” Steve said as if he understood.

“Because I want to keep _you_ safe.” 

Steve stared at Danny like he couldn’t fathom what he’d just said. Danny squeezed Steve’s hand, rubbed a thumb over his healing wrist. Steve sunk further onto the floor, leaned heavier against Danny’s side.

“Can we…?” Steve cleared his throat “Can we just…sit here together?”

Danny settled against Steve, the two of them balancing each other’s weight. “We can sit here all night if you want.”

He didn’t know what would happen in the morning, if they would talk about this or about what happened in the kitchen, or how tomorrow might unfold with the case. Danny couldn’t think about that; his focus was on the here and now. 

He sat in blissful silence, for minutes, hours, however long it was needed, until his eyes finally closed to Steve’s steady breathing.


	7. Chapter 7

* * *

Danny woke to the sound of whining. Specifically, Eddie’s little noises of displeasure when he wanted to eat. Blinking awake, Danny felt Steve’s weight leaning on him. It was an awkward position given they were both on the floor and the back of his sofa was the only thing supporting them. It was a testament of mutual exhaustion that they both had nodded off.

There was enough light for Danny to take in Steve’s relaxed features, his jaw-line, the fine muscles in his chest, and how his long legs stretched out in front of him. He was the picture of peace, comfortable sharing Danny’s space. 

He wanted Steve to always experience this; Danny hated seeing him on full alert 24-7.

Eddie made another low whine and Danny shushed him as quietly as he could. Eddie trotted toward the kitchen. Steve’s hands began twitching. 

Danny debated how he should wake Steve up before he was startled to alertness. Touch might be too much. He wet his lips. “Steve…?”

Steve’s whole body stiffened and his eyes flew open. He almost threw himself forward.

“Easy, easy,” Danny comforted.

Stilling, Steve sucked in a breath as he glanced at Danny. Recognition was a series of facial expressions: relief, acceptance, then finally relaxation. “What time is it?”

“I dunno. Probably around five in the morning.” 

Steve scratched at the increasingly thick layer of stubble on his face. “Danny…I’m –”

“Do you want coffee? Because I need coffee.” Standing, Danny moved toward the kitchen. “How do you take yours?”

Steve peered back at him, his face deep in thought. “However you take yours.”

* * *

Making coffee provided only a few minutes of distraction. Danny poured two mugs and added some milk before he went back into the living room to discover that it was empty.

Setting the hot mug down, he wandered down the hallway to find Steve standing in the doorway of the bathroom, Eddie by his heels.

“Do you need to take a shower?” Danny asked. “I could get some clean towels.”

Steve peered at the bathroom as if it were a puzzle he could decipher. “I need to shave.”

“I have an electric razor in the medicine cabinet.” 

The answer didn’t seem to appease Steve, who dug his fingers into woodwork of the door. Eddie trotted inside the bathroom and barked.

His mind might have been sleep-fuzzed, but Danny knew what internal battle Steve was waging, how anxiety could cripple life’s simplest functions. 

“You could leave the door open.” Steve bristled, so Danny continued. “Would it help to listen to some music? I could play something out here, so you could --”

“No…I….” Stave’s nostrils flared.

“What about a podcast?”

Steve’s eyebrows crinkled. “A what?”

“A podcast. People record themselves discussing topics. Like classic cars or murder mysteries.”

“Like books on tape?”

Danny had to stop from laughing. Steve’s confusion wasn’t supposed to be funny, but it was such an endearing trait. “Sort of. Anyone could record one. It’s not necessarily fiction. I listen to some to help go to sleep. Pick your subject and I bet I can find one. Planes, dinosaurs, the secrets to making your sex life unforgettable.”

“Do you really need a podcast for the last one?”

“Not at all.”

The silence that stretched was crazy long.

Steve ducked his head and cleared his throat. “What about something with math?”

“Math? Like people doing math or…?”

“Anything. Numbers, equations they…they take my mind off things.”

Danny nodded, wondering how often Steve might have used that technique during his captivity. But if that was what would help, then he’d find a whole library of them. “All, right. One math podcast coming up.”

* * *

_“When one speaks of a uniform distribution if, in the arithmetical case, each point of the label set carries the same probability value and, in the geometrical case, if the probability density is constant for all points x of the label set….”_

The podcaster’s voice droned from the bathroom. Danny had downloaded one onto his phone and put it on the sink vanity. Eddie had even made himself at home on the rug, staying within reach of the shower. 

Danny had left open the door while he sipped on his coffee, lost in thought.

Bringing the mug to his lips, he paused when the water stopped. Four minutes. Maybe Steve would take time to dry off this time around.

Finishing his coffee, he contemplated his next move when he realized that Steve didn’t have any real clothes other than sweats and a T-shirt Danny had loaned him. Returning to his bedroom, he rummaged through drawers until he found an old blue Henley. It’d be short in the sleeves, but it was comfy. Danny also found a pair of worn slacks and carried them into the hallway.

The familiar sound of an electric razor stopped Danny in his tracks just outside the bathroom. 

“That thing usually works best if you press it to your skin.”

Steve stared at his reflection, his bare chest rising and falling with every heavy breath. But the razor shook in his hand. Given his injury, Steve’s shoulder couldn’t sustain enough motion to hold up his arm long enough to shave. 

Danny laid the clothes on the counter top and reached over to remove the razor from Steve’s hand, the vibration going through Danny’s fingers. “Let me.” 

Swallowing, Danny waited for a dismissal or a grunt. Instead, Steve sat on the hamper against the wall, his head level with Danny’s chest. A flare of adrenaline shot through Danny’s body. 

Taking his own steadying breath, he adjusted the razor speed and pressed the foil head against Steve’s face. Danny rested his other hand on Steve’s bare shoulder to steady himself, Steve’s breath ghosting against Danny’s throat. 

All the hair along his arms stood on end. Jesus. Steve was only clad in a towel. Danny watched beads of water travel down Steve’s chest in fascination. He hadn’t been interested, _really interested_ in another man in a long time. 

Damn it. Enough. Danny swallowed. “Did the…um, podcast help?”

“Yeah.” Steve’s voice was rough as sandpaper. 

Danny worked the electric razor toward Steve’s ear and back down his strong jawline. He could literally feel his blood pump throughout his whole body, into his extremities. “And Eddie? Seems he kept guard.”

“He’s a good dog. Loyal.”

Steve turned his head in the other direction, presenting the left side of his face. It was so freaking intimate. Danny was tempted to run his fingers down Steve’s cheek, trace the curve of his lips. He swore he could hear Steve’s breathing increase in intensity, thought he spotted beads of sweat forming across Steve’s brow. 

Biting down frustration, Danny focused on the work, of the vibration of the razor, smooth skin replacing dark shadow. Steve’s fingers curled and uncurled around the white fuzz of the towel. 

Finishing, Danny turned the razor off and stepped back. Steve was still battered and bruised, but there was a vibrancy to his face, color in his cheeks that hadn’t been there the other day. 

Steve rubbed his hands over his face, his eyes drifting close as he breathed deeply. “Thank you.”

Danny nodded, his throat dry. “I got you something to change into. Maybe later today I can go to the store and buy you something that fits.”

“When do you leave?”

“In an hour.”

Steve sat straighter. “Are you following up with Weston today?”

“Yeah.”

“She interviewed me to rule me out as a suspect. It’s smart. Makes my statements reliable.”

“Steve….”

“I think she should interview me again,” Steve said determined. “Or share what leads she has. It could help me remember something.”

“Steve—"

“I’m valuable, Danny. I’m the only witness in my own crime and other crimes. I want to help…I want to—"

“You’re remaining here, Steve. Under protection.”

“Danny, that’s not the most effective way to use my—” 

“You don’t have any testimony to give right now, Steven. Not until the rest of you heals some more.”

Steve stood up abruptly and stepped closer, obviously trying to use his height to his advantage. “I’m not staying here.”

While part of Danny’s brain melted from sheer sensory overload, the other part of him held onto control by the barest of measures. “Yes. You. Are.”

“That’s bullshit,” Steve growled, his body shaking. “I don’t need Officer Rei to babysit me.”

Sometimes Danny really despised the decisions he had to make. “Tani’s not the one who’s going to stay with you today.”

* * *

Junior arrived ten minutes early and for once Danny was grateful for his ingrained need to be punctual. 

Steve had retreated to the guest room with Eddie. Danny had left him be. It was hard to feel sidelined, harder still without a guide post. Steve needed to feel useful, but his safety was still in question. 

Any other person would have balked or complained about such an assignment. But Junior gave Danny a sitrep about his latest perimeter search.

“I asked security to change up their patterns.” Junior walked around the living room. “They’re also going to add a third patrol outside.” He stopped in front of Danny. “Did you get any sleep last night?”

“Some.”

“Anything I should be aware of?”

“It's time to find new locations for my back-up weapons.”

“The Glock?”

Danny nodded.

“The gun safe?”

“Everything.”

“Can do.” Junior glanced around with a frown. “He knows about my assignment?”

“He is painfully aware.” Danny cleared his throat. “Look…Steve’s agitated. I’d give him a wide berth. But you know….”

“He’s an enigma.” Junior held his head up high. “I won’t let the bruises fool me. I’ll keep him secured, sir.”

A small weight lifted from his shoulders. It was a difficult assignment, one that would keep Junior on his toes. 

Glancing at the hallway, Danny knew to give Steve some breathing room. Junior seemed to sense his anxiety. “Need me to give him a message?”

“No. Just that…I’m going to do whatever it takes to solve his case.”

“That’s one thing I don’t you think you need to worry about. _He knows._”

“Yeah.”

With one last glance behind his shoulder, Danny went outside, knowing Steve was in good hands.

* * *

He was the last one at the office, which was saying something as it wasn’t even seven in the morning. Danny made a beeline for the coffee maker as Lou sipped his own mug in thought.

Tani doctored her cup with more sugar than anyone needed, blowing over the rising steam. “Rough night?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Dude, I was there,” she said. “Did either of you get any sleep?”

Danny resisted the urge to rub at his sore back from sleeping against the sofa. “Some.”

“Well, take it from me,” Tani said with a tired smile. “Based on my adventures in babysitting from yesterday, Junes has his hands full.”

Yeah, Danny was afraid of that.

Weston hovered nearby. Danny nodded at her and cast his gaze around the rest of his team. “Come on. Let’s see if we can make some headway today.”

* * *

Weston spoke with efficiency, clicking on pictures from the surveillance team outside the deli. “My guys observed twenty different deliveries yesterday, nine of which were from suppliers for goods not sold or used in the deli. Exotic seafood, pet food and paper goods that included eight carts of bathroom tissue for a place with one toilet.”

“Okay, this place is owned by the Yakuza,” Danny said. “We traced several suspects from the warehouse where Steve was held to this place—we assumed to grab meals, but maybe there’s more to it.”

“It’s too small to be a front for a major operation,” Tani pointed out. 

“Depends on the type of things are being smuggled,” Lou said.

“We need to keep on it.” Danny looked over at Weston. “Could your people tail any of these delivery trucks back to their origin?”

“Not without risking their safety. I have one lab tech and two field agents with me. If you want a tail, you need to provide back-up.”

He didn’t want to share any more resources, but this deli was the only link they had. “Fine. We’ll set something up for this afternoon.”

“Great. Our first objective is set, onto objective two.” Gathering her attaché, Weston smiled at him. “Let's talk to your hacker.”

* * *

Despite what Toast claimed about inhumane conditions, he wasn’t handcuffed to a computer. He remained at HPD for protection and was escorted to a room with a bed, allowed to watch TV, read, and in return he could attempt to make up for his crimes. 

Danny knew Toast’s motivations were to avoid a long prison sentence, but he kept applying pressure. “I’m getting tired of your lack of results. Have you cracked the Thinner account?”

“Dude, I’m not running a malware scheme here. I’m trying to get inside the network of a criminal enterprise.”

“Which you helped create,” Danny pointed out.

“No, I helped provide security for a—” 

“A terrorist organization and by giving such an organization technical expertise you aided and abetted,” Weston said, leaning her hands on the table. “Unless you want to spend time in Gitmo, I suggest you stop screwing around.”

Toast gaped at Danny. “Where the hell did she come from?”

“I pulled her out of the basement. We save her for special occasions.”

Toast waved his hand at both of them. “Jeesh, enough with the heavy shit. I actually have progress to report.”

“Spill it,” Danny demanded. 

“The dude’s been buying and trading crypto currency. Like, he’s using hundreds of different coins to hide how much money he’s moving around.”

Danny looked from Weston to Toast. “There’s more than one bitcoin?”

“There are thousands and they’re all traded like the stock market. I only know about it because I can sneak onto his network for a few seconds at a time.”

“He’s using crypto as a front for money laundering,” Weston summarized. 

“Yeah, but he uses one account to pay for his personal business. I think he has a payroll or something because the same amount of money is distributed once a week to all the same people.” Toast leaned back in his chair with a grin. “But what caught my attention was the twenty thousand he sent out the other day to a different wallet.”

“For the hit on the hospital,” Danny guessed.

“That would be my bet.”

“What about any other usual transactions?” Weston asked. “Say, twenty-five days ago?”

Toast scrolled through the screenshots he had on his laptop. “Yeah. Fifty thousand thirty days ago and another fifty a few days later.”

Weston’s voice warbled. “A hundred grand to kill three Federal Agents.”

Twenty-five thousand dollars to take someone’s life…destroy entire families. 

Danny needed to take this whole organization down. “If you can watch this personal account, can you trace which account the funds went to?”

“Dude. It doesn’t work that way.”

“Then what _can you do?_” Weston growled. 

Toast squirmed in his seat. “I’m working on locating his new base of operations.” 

Danny’s phone buzzed, and he looked down at Junior’s number. “Hold that thought.”

Walking toward the corner of the room, he answered. “What’s up?”

_“I got a break from one of my CI’s.”_

“You don’t have a CI.”

_“Well, he does hear things. But seriously this is good. My boy recognized Steve’s ink.”_

“Wait? What?” Danny started pacing. “His tattoos?”

_“Yeah, he was the artist who worked on Steve.”_

Danny pumped a fist in the air. “That’s fantastic. Where’s his studio?”

_“He doesn’t do ink anymore; he’s kind of a barber now.”_

“He’s a…? Wait. Never mind. Does he know we’re coming by?”

_“Yeah.”_

“And what about Steve?” Danny chewed on his lip. “Does he know?”

_“I don’t think so; I’ve been keeping things discreet.”_

“Good. Keep it that way. Text me the address.”

_“Roger that.”_

Danny hung up, adrenaline pumping through his veins. Weston wandered over, curious. “I think we just got a lead on Steve’s identity,” he told her in a rush.

“That’s great news. Finally.” Weston grabbed her papers. “That’s objective number two.”

“You gonna tell me what objective three is, or is it a secret?”

“Objective three is for Steve to remember what happened to him. And I think learning who he is will help him on that journey.”

Danny followed Weston into the hallway, his heart racing. He was keen on objective two, on Steve learning who he was, but three? Three was important, vital to the case, for Steve to heal. 

But it was also horrifying, because that meant they were one step closer to knowing what exactly happened to him in the last couple of weeks. 

The cop side of him wanted to know. The other part of him? Was terrified to find out.

* * *

After assigning Lou and Tani to Weston’s team to help with the surveillance on the deli, Danny took point on their latest lead.

Weston fiddled with her attaché case in the seat next to him. “If this tattoo guy….”

“Barber.”

“If this barber knows who Steve is, how are you going to tell him?”

“Carefully.”

“You might want to have a more detailed plan than that.”

“Well, I’m not going to spring it on him and mess him up even more. I’ll…I don’t know, I’ll have Dr. Bergman help.” Danny pressed on the accelerator. “And I’m not going to rush it. And before you interrupt, I know how important Steve remembering his ordeal is to breaking this case, but we have to own up to the fact it might take days or weeks or….”

“Never.”

Danny white-knuckled the wheel. Because that would devastate Steve. “That, too.”

“I’m not a soulless human being, Detective. I’m not going to traumatize a victim even further even if his memory is the key to solving this case.”

“Look, I get this is more than a case…I know what it’s like, losing a friend.”

Weston got quiet, her gaze staring out the window. “Good.” 

Then she cleared her throat and released a heavy sigh. “But to be honest? There might not be a case if you don’t slow down.”

Biting his lip, Danny slowly eased his foot off the gas.

* * *

The barbershop was more like a shack set up in a parking lot of a head-shop.

“I doubt this guy deals in high-end clients,” Weston remarked, closing the passenger-side door. 

Removing his sunglasses, Danny slipped them into his pocket and came around the front of the car. “Does he just have one chair?”

His cell phone buzzed. Danny looked down but didn’t recognize the number. 

“Come on,” Weston said, walking over. 

Glancing around, Danny noticed the shop was in front of a bunch of green dumpsters and cars belonging to the employees of the other stores. Shaking his head, Danny followed Weston toward the barbershop. His hands began sweating. 

Could this guy have the answers they needed? Did he really know Steve?

Opening the door and walking inside, Danny waved at the lone employee. 

A guy with moppy hair and a bright Hawaii shirt stopped sweeping the floor. “Welcome. Do you guys have an appointment?”

Danny pointed his badge clipped on his belt. “Yep. My partner spoke to you. I’m Detective Danny Williams and this is Agent Lori Weston from Homeland Security.”

“May I see?” the guy asked.

Exchanging a look with Weston, they both handed the barber their credentials which he studied before handing the back. “I’m Odell. I heard I could help you with a current case?”

“Yes.” Danny released a breath to calm his quickening pulse. “Junior sent you some pics I took of a guy’s tattoos.”

“Yeah, I recognized my work.”

Danny’s phone buzzed again. Looking down, he ignored the unfamiliar number.

“And could you tell us about them?” Weston asked.

“You want to know about the designs?” Odell pulled out his cell phone, his thumb dancing over the screen before putting it back. “Because designs are personal.”

“We’re actually more interested in the client that the ink belongs to,” she said. “Do you remember this client?”

“Yeah, I remember him.” Odell leaned on the broom. “But I’m going to need more of a reason why you need to know who he is.”

Danny’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “More reasons than it’s part of several investigations?”

“I’m afraid so. My clients have the right to privacy.”

“A right to privacy?” Weston asked in disbelief. “For tattoos?”

Danny’s patience had reached its limit. “Look, this guy with the tattoos? His life is in danger. People have tried to kill him, and we need to know who he is.”

Odell chewed on his bottom lip. “He’s in danger now?”

“Yes. And he…he has a head injury and his memory is affected and....” Danny took a shuddering breath, fear and adrenaline and the need for answers making him too damn edgy. Frantic. “We..._he_ needs your help.”

“If he’s in the hospital or in your custody, surely his fingerprints should tell you who he is,” Odell rebuked.

“Why?” Weston asked. “Does he have a record?”

“Yeah, a military one.” Odell narrowed his eyes. “But if you guys are really law enforcement, then you should know that.”

Weston stepped closer. “He’s in the military?”

Odell stared at her. “He was…he could still be, I’m not sure. It’s been a while. But it begs the question…why don’t _you_ know that fact?”

“Because his prints didn't come back from the military or otherwise.” Weston was clearly thrown by the news. “What branch? What…?”

“What’s his _name_?” Danny demanded. Because that was the most important thing, the only thing that mattered at that very second. “His full name. He deserves to know.”

Odell must have recognized the desperation in Danny’s voice, because he looked him in the eye when he spoke. “Steve. His name is Lieutenant Steve McGarrett. At least he was an LT six years ago. I bet he’s got a higher rank now.” Odell looked at Weston. “And he’s Navy…a SEAL.”

Shit. Junior was going to get even more intense around the man. 

“You’ve known him over a number of years?” Weston asked. “Steve was stationed here?” 

“Yeah, for a while. But he lives here, or he did.”

“He lived on Oahu?” Danny couldn’t believe it. His head started spinning with the ramifications. And his cell wouldn’t stop ringing. Damn it, not _now. _ “Williams,” he growled.

_“Sir, it’s me.”_

“Junior, where the hell are you calling me from?”

_“I had to borrow a cell phone.”_

“Why?”

_“Because Steve took mine and sneaked out. I’m sorry, sir, I lost him. I think he’s on his way to you.”_

“On his way to me? Are you kidding, how?” This was the last thing they needed.

_“He has my cell, which means he has the address to the barbershop I texted you.”_

“Jesus. How…he has no money. Shit, did he steal another car?”

_“I think Tani might have shown him how to use rideshare.”_

“She did what? Never mind, get your ass over here now!”

“Danny,” Weston stared at him, still looking taken aback from the course of events. “If Steve is a SEAL and his records are erased, that means….”

“What does it mean?”

“It means he’s involved in black ops or other super-covert missions.” She began pacing. “I’ve had this nagging suspicion that he might be a CIA asset. Shit…”

“I could be part of the CIA?”

Danny spun around to find Steve standing just inside the entrance.

“What the hell?” Danny yelled. “Did you seriously leave a perfectly secure location to come out here?”

Steve glared at him. “When I found out you got a lead on my identity? You bet I did.”

“You were at my place for a reason,” Danny growled. 

“_Your_ reason, not mine.”

“You stubborn sonofabitch. This is police business.”

“No, this is my life!” Steve turned his attention toward Odell. “And this man knows a lot more about it than I do.”

Danny noticed the weapon stuffed in the waistband of Steve’s pants. The bastard stole his Glock.

Steve strode toward Odell, studying his face, his eyes. “Please. Who am I?”

“You’re a bad-ass.” Odell’s shoulders loosened. “And a control freak.”

Danny snorted, but Steve was breathing hard, days of stress and anxiety adding lines to his face. 

Odell seemed to catch onto Steve’s distress. “I’ve known you off and on for ten years. We created those designs together. That’s a lot of hours shooting the shit.” 

“I’m…I’m from _ here_,” Steve breathed in astonishment.

Odell looked from Danny to Steve, seemingly to finally realize the seriousness of the situation. “Yeah.”

Steve sucked in a breath, his eyes going wide. “What about my family? Are they here? _God. _Do they think I’m dead?”

Odell looked like a deer caught in headlights. He backed away, gripping the broom.

Danny was going to have a stroke. “Look, we can’t do this here. We need to leave.” He whirled to face the barber. “I’m sorry, Mr. Odell, but you need to come with us. For your safety and ours.”

“Whoa, dude. I have clients.”

“Tell them to cancel,” Weston said.

“No,” Steve growled. “I need answers. _ Now._” He stared at Weston. “You said I could be a CIA asset?” Steve didn’t wait on her to answer, pinning Odell with a stare. “Am I?”

“Are you what?” Odell asked.

“CIA?” Steve demanded.

Odell shook his head bewildered. “Dude, I don’t know.”

“Are you kidding me? Steve McGarrett lives and breathes to piss off the CIA.”

Steve spun around at the same time as Danny and Weston. All three of them aimed their weapons at the man in the doorway. 

“Who the hell are you?” Steve growled.

Danny kept his aim steady, waiting.

The suspect held his hands out despite his relaxed posture. He was the size of a tree. He stared at Steve. “Dude, getting your brain scrambled does not excuse how much money you owe me from cards.”

Steve squinted at the suspect, his arms trembling from the strain. “I asked you a question!”

“Steve, it’s me. Freddie. Lieutenant Freddie Hart. We serve together.”  



	8. Chapter 8

Seconds ticked by, but Danny never lowered his weapon. How in the _ hell_ did this guy locate them? And could he shoot him without winging Steve, who was freaking edging closer to the suspect?

Steve stared at Hart as if he was willing the man’s words to make his memories reappear, his arm trembling. “I don’t know you.”

“That’s fine. I know enough between us. There’s never been a situation too hard or too FUBAR that we couldn’t find out way out of.” Hart never took his eyes off Steve, his massive presence in contradiction to his composed demeanor. “You can trust me. Because I trust you. With everything.”

“Dude’s right,” Odell said, still gripping the broom. “You guys are tight. And obnoxious when you drink.”

“I beg to differ.” Hart smiled. “We’re just loud and opinionated.”

“And ridiculous.” Odell looked between them. “You once raced each other in a parking garage by climbing up the outside wall.”

“I won that,” Hart bragged. “Longer legs.”

Weston lowered her weapon. “Got some ID to go with your claim?”

“Back pocket.” Hart raised an eyebrow at Steve. “You gonna lower that steel, buddy? Or are you going to shoot me like you did in ‘14?”

“I shot you?”

“There was an asshole holding a gun to my head.” Hart shrugged. “It all worked out.”

Steve put the Glock in his waistband. “Did I buy you a beer afterward?”

Hart rolled his eyes. “Steve McGarrett never has his wallet on him.”

“I can vouch for that.” Odell moved over and slumped in his leather barber chair. “I’d be working on a new design before you ever paid me for the previous one. But your buddies were good clients, so I’d let it pass.”

Weston took Hart’s wallet and studied the ID before handing it to Danny. Given the conversations playing out, he didn’t doubt Hart. Glancing at the credentials, he confirmed his Navy ID.

Danny nodded at Odell, perturbed. “You tip him off when we arrived?”

“I don’t know you. But I _know_ this guy,” Odell said, gesturing at Hart. “And when he told me to let him know if someone came around sniffing for info on McGarrett, I didn’t question it.”

“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?” Danny asked, staring at Hart. “Do you know what happened to Steve?”

“No. I just know he disappeared last month, and no one was saying a word.” Hart balled his hands into fists. “Every door I banged on, I was met with silence. And if someone _did_ talk to me, they were transferred the next day.”

“How did you know he was on Oahu?” Danny demanded.

“Because Steve texted me that he was coming.” Hart pulled out his phone and showed Danny the message. “When he never showed up for dinner I got worried. Then days turned into weeks and I was frantic. I put feelers out everywhere. Used every connection. I have a friend of a friend who works for HPD. They told me about the shootout when you discovered Steve.”

Danny made a mental note to find that leak. “But we didn’t discover Steve, we discovered a _John Doe. _

“Shoot-outs in the middle of a highway and a strange HPD case dealing with sketchy cleaners? Damn, it sounded like _Steve._ My connection also told me about the warehouse…that it was like a black site?” Hart looked at Steve, his chiseled expression breaking.

“My gut said it was you.” Releasing a heavy breath, Hart strode over and pulled Steve into a hug. “I’m glad that you’re alive, you crazy sonofabitch.”

Steve didn’t respond to the affection. Danny didn’t even have time to remind Hart that Steve was alive but injured before Hart stepped back. After a moment he pulled himself tall, the crack in his facade gone. 

But Steve was still on mission, studying Hart’s face. “You said we serve together, but you don’t know where I was?”

“We worked for JSOC for years. Special assignments, if you know what I mean.”

“Yeah.” But Steve’s tone said otherwise.

“Then I got married two years ago and you got a shiny new task force.” Hart stared at the floor. “And we didn’t run in the same circles anymore.”

“What type of task force?”

“High-level shit.”

“But you said not CIA,” Weston pointed out.

“I did,” Hart said without elaborating.

Steve rubbed at his temples. “Are you saying that I was some type of spy?”

“No, dude. Despite what you thought on a regular basis, you were not James Bond. But you’re a badass operator and you went after some pretty evil bad guys.”

Digging his thumbs against his eyes, Steve shook his head. He started rubbing the watch Danny had given him. “It sounds like something out of the movies,” he grunted. “Like a damn nightmare.”

Weston inched closer. “I think we need to take a break.” She looked over at Danny in earnest.

Steve looked ill, like he had when Weston had questioned him the other day at Danny’s house. She’d mentioned it could be the result of the brainwashing. Steve was right, it sounded like something out of a spy film. Danny still needed to follow-up on the ramifications of forcing Steve to remember things that obviously triggered a pain response. 

But first things first. They were in the middle of a barbershop. He was about to call his partner when Junior opened the front door in a hurry. 

Danny met him halfway and pointed a finger at him. “What did I tell you about watching him, huh? Whatever happened to your ninja skills of observation?”

Junior waved a hand at Steve. “He started a fire in your kitchen.”

Danny’s eyes almost bugged out of his head. He whirled around on Steve. “You started a fire in my kitchen?”

“Just a small one.”

“You!” Danny walked over and poked Steve in the chest. “You are a walking menace. You could have burned my complex down.”

“It needed to be distracting enough,” Steve said. “But if Junior had half the skills that I thought he did, I wasn’t worried.”

“Not cool, sir,” Junior said.

“But resourceful,” Hart said with a grin.

Odell chuckled. 

“Oh, my God. I’m surrounded by a bunch of crazy Navy SEALs.” Danny needed a drink.

Weston’s phone chirped at the same time as Danny’s. He took the call and walked over into the corner. “What’s going on, Lou?”

_“Toast said the Thinner account transferred forty thousand dollars out of his personal account just an hour ago.”_

Danny cursed under his breath. “It’s another payment for a hit.”

* * *

“We’ve got to go,” Danny commanded. 

He’d already explained about the money transfer to the group, so why wasn’t everyone hopping to attention? Steve stood rooted in place, his mule-head stubbornness making Danny want to shake him. 

“We can’t stay here.” 

Junior walked over and peeked out the front door. “We’re still clear, but the exit is still obstructed by the other building.”

Hart tapped Odell on the shoulder. “You got a back door out of here?”

“Yeah. Where I park my car.”

“Good. Let’s go.” Hart gestured at Steve. “Come on.”

Steve took a step back. “Where?”

“To Pearl-Hickman.” 

“No.”

“It’s a naval base.” Hart raised his eyebrows. “It’s safe.”

Weston pulled out her cell phone. “I can arrange for a discreet escort.”

The whole situation felt like it was spiraling out of control. Danny kept looking toward the front door, his whole body a series of knots. But exiting out the back could be a trap. He pulled out his weapon. 

Junior held up his hand. “We should decide our exfil location before exiting the building.” He looked to Hart and Weston. “I have a buddy who could –”

“No,” Steve snapped. “No escorts, no buddies. We’re not going to Pearl.”

“There’s nothing more secure than thousands of sailors,” Hart reasoned. 

“Yeah?” Steve took a step forward, his breathing heavy. “Then why didn’t anyone come get me? Where were they when you were ‘knocking on doors’? No, I’m not going there.”

“We need a secure location,” Hart countered. “We can’t go back to Detective Williams’. The location is compromised now.”

Steve bit his lips, eyes darting around the shop. 

“We can return to HPD,” Junior suggested. 

“They would be expecting us to go there,” Steve argued. “They probably already have it under surveillance.”

Steve was paranoid and antsy. A dangerous combination. Not that Danny blamed him.

“Okay. Where else can we go? Somewhere close by,” Danny said, bringing order and calm to the room. “What about a friend’s house, something not connected to any of us. Preferably with good lines of sight.”

He looked around at everyone lost in thought. Danny glanced at Odell, who snorted. “Dude. I have no idea. All I do is cut hair.”

“I’ve got the place,” Hart announced. “It’s a rental under a private realty company. We can call them before we leave.”

Danny watched Hart wrap an arm around Steve’s shoulders. A flash of anger went through his chest.

Junior wandered over and dipped his mouth toward Danny’s ear. “Sir, you might want to stop glaring.”

“I’m not glaring,” Danny growled.

Danny walked over to the group. “We’ll take two cars. I’ll go with Hart and Steve. Junior, you ride with Odell and Weston.”

“Um, no. I’m fine here.”

Weston stared at Odell. “We’ll ride around until we’re sure we’re not being followed. Then after I debrief Hart and Steve, I’ll take you back to HPD.”

“I think I should have a choice in the matter,” Odell protested.

“No, you don’t,” Danny told him. “I’m sorry, but it’s for everyone’ safety.”

“All right,” Hart said, clapping his hands together. “We’ll follow Bravo-Zebra driving patterns and –”

“No, we’ll use radios and talk to each other like normal people.” Taking a stance in front of Steve, Danny readied his weapon. “I’ll take point. Hart and Junior will take the rear.”

* * *

There was no ambush, no need to use fancy driving patterns. Danny had suggested that Weston save time and take Odell to the station, but she declined. She was going to be there when Steve and Hart spoke.

Freddie Hart was a surprise. A long-lost, best friend SEAL buddy. Irrational annoyance made Danny grind his teeth.

Hart drove in silence with Steve in the backseat and Danny in the passenger. Conversation was minimal, which was good. Now that Steve had the key to his life, he vibrated with energy. Fidgeting in his seat. Checking the mirrors. 

Hart had the decency not to talk about Steve or the case while driving. He was a professional. Danny clenched his jaw even more. 

“We’re here.”

They pulled into the driveway of an older home in a quiet neighborhood. 

“Are you sure we’re not about to interrupt someone on vacation?” Danny asked.

“We’re good. I called the owner and she said no one has a reservation until the weekend.”

Steve got out of the back of the car and gazed at the front door. His brow knitted between his eyes.

“You okay?” Danny asked him. 

“It’s nothing.” But the lines in Steve’s face had increased. 

Hart walked in step with Steve before leading the way. “I’ve got the alarm.”

Steve moved like his legs were made of lead. After several painstaking moments, he followed Hart inside, Danny behind them. 

Danny scanned the living room. Light poured in from the windows. Plants decorated the windowsill, coffee table and all the corners of the room. There was a wicker sofa and coffee table with a new HD TV mounted on the wall.

Hart walked into a study then back toward a set of sliding glass doors that lead to a lanai. Steve followed him, pausing beside him. 

Junior went upstairs, and Odell took a seat on the sofa. Weston inspected the lower level.

“Nice view, isn’t it?” Hart asked. 

Steve scratched at his neck and swallowed several times. 

“Hey.” Walking over, Danny rested a hand on Steve’s arm. “You okay? You just lost two shades of color.”

“I….” Steve swallowed again. He took a stumbling step back. 

“Whoa. It’s good. We’re all good,” Danny said.

Steve took another step back and rested his hand on his weapon.

Danny stood in front of him. “Talk to me, babe.”

“I…shouldn’t be here.”

“Why?”

Steve shook his head. 

“It’s anxiety talking,” Danny reassured him. “And it lies.”

“I don’t know…I feel like….” Steve glanced around. “My heart’s racing.”

“Okay. How about taking a steady breath for me? One long breath.”

Steve obeyed, drawing in air.

“Count to four then release the breath for a count of four.” 

Danny coached Steve until he’d taken several breaths, his chest rising and following in rhythm.

“It’s okay, brother,” Hart said. “You’re safe. You’ve always been safe here.”

Suspicion was a cold chill down Danny’s spine, but Weston beat him to the punch. “Where are we?”

“Steve, buddy. Look around. The furniture is new, but you know in your bones this place is special. It’s your sanctuary.”

If Danny could, he’d punch Hart’s lights out. He settled for walking over and getting up and into his face. “What did you do?”

“I’m trying to help my best friend remember who he is.” Hart pushed past Danny and placed a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “You grew up here, buddy. This is your home.”

“My home?”

“Yeah. Your sister rents it out, but this is where you grew up. She got married a while ago, so the place is under her new name.”

Steve rounded on Hart, staring up at him. “I have a sister?”

“Yeah, Mary.”

“Enough!” Danny snarled. 

“Dude, what is your deal?” Hart snapped. 

“My deal is that this…” Danny waved his hands around, “…is not how you help a man who has been tortured. There are steps and professionals and all kinds of ways to approach this in a caring, helpful environment, and not in a way that makes the person you’re trying to help look like he’s about to pass out because you’re screwing with black-ops spy brain modifications!”

It took several seconds for Danny to catch his breath.

“It’s behavior modification,” Weston corrected.

“Yes,_ that!_” Danny yelled. 

“Steve McGarrett is one of the toughest operators I have ever known,” Hart growled. “He’s fought and won against adversities you could never imagine. His brain is his finest weapon and I’m going to help him reclaim it.”

_“Reclaim_ it?” Danny couldn’t believe his ears. “This isn’t a competition for a brochure motto.”

“Gentlemen….” Danny whirled around at Weston’s voice. She glared back. “If you’re done measuring each other’s pants size.”

He followed her gaze toward the open sliding glass doors and outside toward the beach. Steve had stumbled outside to stand at the edge of the grass leading to the sand, Junior his shadow a few feet away.

Odell walked up behind Weston and Hart, his voice quiet. “Are you going to tell him about his parents?”

Hart worked his jaw back and forth. The hesitation didn’t bode well, and the dread in the pit of Danny’s stomach increased tenfold. Deep inside, something had told him that they weren’t around. Call it intuition, or his gut, but Danny could feel tragedy in his bones. 

Clearing his throat, Hart looked at Danny and Weston. “He’s my best friend and I want what’s best for him. But I know Steve; he’s not going to wait for doctors and a leather sofa to hear the truth. He doesn’t run away from anything.”

* * *

The lanai was tranquil. A slice of peace with private views and waves lapping the sand. Danny wandered over, noting two chairs and a little table. But Steve stood away from them, his eyes slightly unfocused as he gazed into the ocean, his breaths rapid but steady.

Steve kept facing the water. “My mom and dad are dead, aren’t they?” 

Hart shared a look with Danny before speaking. “Yes, they died in a car accident when you were fourteen. Drunk driver. Your aunt raised you and you sister. When you were seventeen, you applied to the Navy.”

“And my sister?” Steve asked, hopeful.

“Lives in L.A. Rents this place for income. Your aunt died a couple of years ago, around the same time as….” Hart clamped his mouth shut.

Steve turned around to face Hart. “Same time as what?”

“The same time you switched assignments.”

Danny noted how Hart dodged the question. 

“Switched to what?” Steve asked.

“I’m not exactly sure, to be honest.” Hart sighed, seeming frustrated. “It was an anti-terrorism, covert assignment. A team you led.”

“Covert assignment.” Steve bit his lip. “As in I killed people.”

“Steve, we’re operators. Our jobs involve saving people and protecting our country.”

“But you didn’t want any part of it.”

Steve was perceptive, and his question was the exact one Danny had been mulling over. 

“I got married.”

There was more to Hart’s answer; he wasn’t a good liar. 

Steve’s face crinkled in thought before knowing realization hardened his voice. “During a regular deployment, if something happened to you, your wife would be informed. But what I was doing, if something happened to me…I just disappeared.”

Pain flickered behind Hart’s eyes. “I’d follow you anywhere, Steve. I have. To hell and back. But this new assignment, you wouldn’t let me.”

“You have children?” Steve asked.

“One. A girl.”

“Good.”

Steve stood in silence, leaving Danny feeling inadequate in the moment. 

After speaking on the phone near the house, Weston walked over. “Look. I’m taking Odell to the station to interview him for the record then drop him home.”

“Yeah, I think this reunion might take a while.” Danny tried not to allow his annoyance bleed through his tone of voice. 

“I have friends in high places. Now that we have Steve’s identity, let me use some back channels to see what type of assignment he was on. Maybe I can make some headway.”

Danny was taken by surprise with her change in direction, and it must have shown in his expression. Weston rolled her eyes. “This might be a long walk down memory lane for those two, and in the meantime, we have to make progress on the present.”

She had a point. The reason for Steve’s abduction was tied to his super-secret assignments. Agent Kaye and the other operatives could be more connected than first thought. They needed concrete answers. Now. And while Steve still didn’t know what had happened to him, Hart had provided them with the needed leads. 

“If they start talking about current events, or if Steve remembers anything, I’ll call you,” Danny promised. 

“You’re all still in danger.”

“This place seems out of sight and under a third–party name.” Danny looked over at the house. “Not to mention I’m with three SEALs. I’m sure we’ll come up with a security plan by tonight.”

“If not, our teams can.”

Danny smiled at that.

Odell poked his head out the sliding glass doors. “If you ever need a haircut, Detective, let me know. I’d love to work some magic on you.”

“You stay far away from me with those scissors,” Danny warned him. 

Odell waved goodbye and Danny returned his attention toward the beach.

* * *

Danny watched within ear shot, feeling like a voyeur as he listened to one-sided conversations. Hart told stories, nothing too detailed: snippets of adventures during BUD/s; times when he and Steve played football or shared the dinner table; pages from a book Steve had taken part in, but not read. 

The sun was half an hour from setting, the light casting shadows on Steve’s face, Hart’s voice echoing around them. 

Junior walked toward Danny and handed him a bottle of water. Leaning a shoulder against a tree, he watched him. “I guess doing this whole thing in a controlled setting went out the window.”

“Yeah, well, Hart’s kept to SEAL school shenanigans, nothing too heavy.” Danny sipped his water. “Steve’s reaction has been a variation between silence and nods.”

“I bet it’s surreal.” Junior cleared his throat, drawing Danny’s full attention. “I checked on Lt. Hart, seems to be a good guy. Four tours of duty. Highly decorated, half his jacket is redacted.”

“I’m glad Steve found a friend. He needs one.”

“Hart is part of a life he doesn’t know. But you…. You’re his everything in the last seventy-two hours. It’s not a competition.”

Junior wandered toward Hart and Steve, telling them about dinner. Danny had been so preoccupied he didn’t even know Junior had made them food.

Hart patted Steve on the shoulder and followed Junior toward the house, pausing as he walked by Danny. “I wanted to thank you for saving Steve and for having his back the last few days.” Swallowing, he glanced behind his shoulder then back at Danny, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “I’m not a cop, but I’ve led enough missions to give you whatever back-up needed to hunt the bastards responsible for this. Whatever it takes.”

“I’d be stupid not to take you up on that. But for right now, we need to focus on security for the next couple of days as we track down leads.”

Hart stood as straight as a redwood. “We’ll eat, then draw up some plans with Petty Officer Reigns.”

“That’s _Officer_ Reigns as in the police, not a SEAL. Yeah?”

“Once a SEAL, always a SEAL,” Hart said, slapping Danny on the back. “Between the four of us, we’ll have this place more secure than Air Force One.”

With four quick strides, Hart went inside, leaving Danny alone with Steve, the sun setting over the horizon.

* * *

Watching water slap against the sand was mesmerizing, the sounds peaceful, rhythmic. Danny slumped in the lounge chair, the wind soft against his face. Steve stared out at the ocean, his shoulders bunched in tension. 

“For the last two days, all I’ve been able to think about is…who the hell am I? Every time I’ve closed my eyes it felt like staring at the inside of a blank page. And the not knowing has been….” Steve slumped further and released a stuttering breath. “But now….”

“Now you have some of the pieces.”

“Yeah.”

The sun had set. Danny couldn’t make out Steve’s features, but he could hear the despondency in his voice instead of relief. “Just yeah?”

“What if…what if I don’t like the answers? What if….” Steve’s voice warbled, his fingernails digging into the wooden armrests. “What if I’m this terrible person?”

“You’re not a terrible person.”

“What if I am?”

“Look at me.” Steve obeyed, and Danny leaned closer, ensuring Steve didn’t miss a single word. “You are a good person. No one and I mean _no one_ could have survived what you’ve gone through without courage and especially without a strong moral compass.”

“I’ve killed people, Danny.”

“So have I.”

“No, not like me.”

Anger swelled inside Danny’s chest. “Really? You heard a few stories from your buddy and suddenly you know everything about what you did as a soldier and everything I’ve done as a cop?” 

“No. Of course not.”

“That’s right, because you don’t have a basis for it, and to be honest, it doesn’t matter.”

“How can you say that?” Steve slammed his hand against the chair arm. “Of course it matters. What we do, our behavior, our actions? They always matter. I was some, I don’t know, some spy or assassin.”

Oh my God. Steve had way too much selective hearing. Danny wanted to dump some of the ocean water over his head. “Is that what you took from all of this? You were not James Bond or Jason Bourne. You’ve still got chemicals swimming around in your blood making you say goofy things—"

“No, Danny. This isn’t me being paranoid. I was the leader of special unit doing the government’s dirty work, missions no one talks about because they were things that had to be disavowed if we were caught.” Steve stood up, vibrating with emotion. “Why else would I push away my best friend? Because he got married. Because he had a kid. Jesus. I wanted him as far as way as possible.”

Danny remained sitting, trying not to escalate the tension. “You’re jumping to conclusions.”

“Am I, Danny?”

“Yes, you are. And even if a shred of that is true, who cares? Because the Steve I know, the Steve in front of me, the man I’d do anything to protect? He’s _you_ and nothing will change that.”

Steve’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. “What if we learn otherwise?”

“Do you think you’re the only person who might have made some bad choices in life? Done things, bad things that you never want anyone else to know?”

Because if Steve knew some of Danny’s darkest secrets, would he be looking at him the way he was now? 

Reaching over, Steve took Danny’s hand in his own. “You could tell me anything.”

His heartbeat almost drowned out the ocean. God, he wanted to, needed to share some of the thoughts and memories that kept Danny up at night, to unload and share and just...he stared at the watch, Matty’s watch on Steve’s wrist.

Wetting his lips, Danny squeezed Steve’s hand in return and slowly intertwined their fingers. “I’d like that.”

Danny didn’t elaborate, and Steve accepted it without protest, nodding, although Danny wasn’t sure if he could ever do anything to hurt Steve’s trust in him.

* * *

Once inside the house—Steve’s house, Danny reminded himself—it was all business. Dinner felt like a means to an end. Piling food onto plates, talking shop. Three Navy SEALs and a detective. It felt like some dark comedy. 

The conversations were sporadic. How far could Hart and Junior swim back and forth in ten minutes, who had the fastest record in BUD/s, and the elephant in the room: what was the plan if the hit man or men found them?

“There’s a secret safe room under the stairs,” Hart said between mouthfuls. “It has plenty of weapons and ammo.”

Danny almost choked on his chicken. Junior looked like he couldn’t wait to check it out.

Steve’s fork paused in mid-air. He glanced in the direction of the stairwell without a word.

“I did a perimeter sweep earlier,” Junior said, putting his napkin down. “It’ll be easy to do a patrol every five or six minutes.” He paused in thought. “We need radios though.”

“We have those in the safe room.” Hart shoved his plate aside. “What do you think, buddy? What are our best lines of defense?”

It took a second for Danny to catch on that Hart was deferring to Steve, giving him a natural opening. 

Working his jaw back and forth, Steve glanced at the living room in thought. “I’d put a sniper in that large tree in the neighbor’s yard, let him radio about approaching targets. Then barricade the front entrance, with someone on the second-floor landing to take out targets that breach the front. And I’d use a grenade tripwire along the sliding glass door from the lanai.”

Danny’s breath caught in his throat at how smoothly and efficiently Steve spoke about breaches and booby traps, like he calculated military defense options in his sleep. And maybe he did in his old life; maybe the old Steve was still deep inside providing tactical advice, trying to break free.

Steve hid his unease by drinking down the rest of his water in two long gulps. Hart had a gleam in his eyes that matched Junior’s.

Danny would rather be in his home surrounded by roaming security patrols cameras and not in an unfamiliar place. Instead of rightfully griping about the situation, he added his two cents. “We should plan additional escape routes and have a second vehicle down the road just in case we get cut off from the driveway.”

Steve locked eyes with Danny, his lips curved into what could only be called a very pleased and turned-on smile. 

Hart got up and clapped Danny on the back, impressed. “I like the way you think, Williams.”

Junior gathered all their dishes. “Dude, you have no idea.”

Helping Junior, Danny dumped all the dishes into the sink. After cleaning up, he found the others in the living room. 

Junior was practically bouncing on the balls of his heels. “Are we gonna check out the safe room? I want to see who has the larger weapon’s stash.”

Hart’s grin could power the sun. Danny knew they were in for a collection worthy of _Guns and Ammo. _

The entrance to the secret room was hidden by a false door. Of course, Hart knew the combination to the lock and began dragging out cases. Steve watched with a guarded expression.

“We’ve got every frogman’s favorite handgun.” Hart tucked the pistol into the waistband of his pants then moved on to the bigger cases. There were three others in the box. “Let me see, oh, yeah, this is beauty. M4A1 rifle,” he said, searching through the other cases. “But this, _this_ is the prize in the collection, the MP5N, and by far my favorite submachine gun. This baby was developed specially for operators.”

Hart gave the weapon to Danny. It took him by surprise, but Danny accepted it. 

Hefting the MP5N, Danny gazed down the exquisite barrel. “This had to cost a month’s pay.”

“Are you even allowed to own one of these?” Junior asked in awe. 

“Nope.” Hart and Junior looked ready to jump outside to play war.

“Quit drooling,” Danny admonished his partner. 

But it was a beautiful weapon. If one could love something that was so very lethal. Crafted for balance and weight, polished and cared-for. But this wasn’t his. 

Danny presented the rifle to Steve for inspection. Steve traced the barrel with his finger, gliding it down to the scope, his gaze hooded. Despite his earlier fear about his past, Steve picked up the weapon with practiced ease, thumb rubbing along the side. He oozed confidence, mastery. 

And for a moment Danny caught a glimmer of Commander Steve McGarrett, steadfast and tall – until his fingers began to tremble. 

“I…” Steve narrowed his eyes, nostrils flaring. “I got this….”

Steve shoved the rifle back into Danny’s hands. Whirling around, Steve almost punched the nearest wall, before stopping short, his breathing like a steam-train. Sweat beaded in his hairline. 

Danny handed the weapon back to Hart and went toward Steve. “Hey, hey, take it easy--”

“Every time I get a glimmer, a scrap of feeling, my head feels like it might explode.” Steve marched into the living room. “I grew up here. Slept here, spent years in this house, and it means nothing!”

“Steve….”

“Why am I hiding?” Steve growled, chest heaving, one hand rubbing his sore shoulder then cradling his side. “Why would anyone want me dead when I can’t remember a damn thing?”

“Maybe it’s because whatever they did to you wears off. Which makes you a valuable target.”

Hart needed to stop talking. Steve did not need false hope and he didn’t seem to be in the mood for it either.

“Yeah, is that right?” Steve got right into Hart’s face. “Then maybe...maybe I shouldn’t be hiding at all.”

* * *


	9. Chapter 9

* * *

The hours that followed Steve’s outburst of frustration was a familiar cycle of ups and downs. It was a roller coaster Danny would gladly enjoy leaving if only he had a roadmap. Danny and Hart took turns giving Steve time to vent and to go upstairs and stew in peace. Neither approach worked. Steve needed professional guidance and a stress-free environment; both were in short supply. 

His phone rang as he glanced over to where Steve had finally settled in a leather chair in the house's small office, playing with a laptop Hart had found. Knowing he was preoccupied, Danny walked into the hallway to take Tani’s call.

“Hey,” he answered.

_“Hey. Just letting you know Lou and I are tagging out from surveillance tonight.”_

“Any news?”

_“No, none of the mystery deliveries came today. In fact, it was boringly normal. Unlike my boss and his adventures with Navy SEALs. You starting a calendar or what?”_

“We’re on May right now.”

_“That’s it, I’m coming over…oh wait, I can’t.”_

Danny rubbed his eyes. “I’m sorry. We need to keep our current location secret.”

_“But Agent Weston knows.”_

“She came with us. Besides, we wouldn’t be in a super-secret location if someone hadn’t taught Steve how to use Uber.”

_“I was just trying to make small talk. Besides, I think he pulled a Jedi mind trick on me.”_

“Yeah, well, he’s good at that.” Danny began pacing in the living room. “Look, thanks for working with Weston’s team on this. That deli is the only thing that might lead us to the people who were involved in holding Steve in the warehouse.”

_“Well, we’re back at it bright and early in the morning.” _

“Tell Lou I’ll check in with you guys tomorrow.”

_“I will. And, Boss, be careful.”_

Hanging up, Danny wandered toward Steve, grabbing a pharmacy bag off the kitchen table. He’d sent Junior to grab some supplies an hour ago. While there was food in the house, Steve still needed care. He went to the kitchen sink and washed his hands with soap before going toward the office. 

Walking over, he glanced around, noting the lack of prying eyes and the fact that Junior had bought Steve some fresh clothes in sizes that fit and a style that screamed casual military. The black t-shirt accentuated the definition in Steve’s arms and chest, and the cargo pants gave the illusion of a quiet Sunday morning. 

Danny licked his lips. “Where are the others?”

“Hart is checking out the tree I was talking about. Junior might be up on the roof.”

Danny quirked an eyebrow. “Really?”

“You don’t think my strategy has merits?”

“Um….”

Steve leaned back in his chair and rubbed at his eyes. “They’re just getting some air.”

Or giving Steve some additional space, which was a valid thing, but Steve probably needed sleep more. Clutching the bag, Danny sat in the chair next to him. “While I’m sure playing Candy Crush is a fun experience, I think we’ve neglected some things.”

“I’ve neglected a lot of things.”

Danny ignored the innuendo despite all the hair along his arms standing on end. Pulling out the antibiotic ointment, he unscrewed the cap. Steve laid his arm on the table, turning it until his wrist was facing up.

Danny squeezed a dab onto his finger and started applying it to the healing skin. “These should probably be bandaged.”

“They itch.”

“They’re healing. It’s only been a few days, give it time.”

Steve frowned. “Only days?”

“Yeah,” Danny said, rubbing in the ointment. “Three in the hospital and a couple with me.”

“I thought…” Steve chewed on his lips. “Thought it’d been a couple of weeks.” 

Danny knew it’d be a while before Steve gained a sense of time again. “Just use the calendar feature of the watch, okay?”

Steve nodded, offering the other arm. Danny began applying the cream to the second set of abrasions, realizing there were multiple marks, multiple times in which the skin had been chafed and rubbed raw. 

Even now, rage burned inside his veins at what created these marks. But Steve had more than physical wounds and Danny couldn’t ignore those. “What you said earlier….”

“I’m right.”

“Steve….”

“I don’t think the old me would just wait around like this.” Steve pulled his arm away. “He’d have a plan, he’d – “

“What? Go One-Man-Army without back-up? Take the fight into the streets?”

“Maybe.”

Danny rested the ointment on the table; he’d let Steve care for the abrasions on his ankles and the burns on his chest. “I don’t know the old you, babe. I know_ you_-you, in the here and now. You need to stop comparing yourself to some super-human G.I. Joe.”

“G.I. Joe was Army.”

“Sorry, I don’t know any SEAL superheroes.” Danny put a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Besides, I like the guy who lets me take care of him. Something tells me that other dude would probably be holed-up somewhere licking his wounds in private. He’d probably scowl at me or something.”

“I doubt he’d bite.”

“Yeah, well, like I said. I like the guy in front of me.” 

Danny traced his fingers along Steve’s collarbone, brushing over the nape of his neck. Steve flinched at the contact. Danny jerked his hand away. 

“Danny…it…it wasn’t you….”

“Yeah, I can tell by how hard you’re breathing.” Danny remained close but didn’t touch. Didn’t force Steve to talk about the newly discovered trigger. “The guy in front of me? He’s gone through hell, but he’s a sensible person who knows his limits, and even listens to the advice of those smarter than him.”

“Yeah, like what?” Steve huffed. 

“Like going to bed to get some shut-eye. It’s been a long day.”

“Sleep?” Steve sounded like it was a foreign concept.

“Yeah. And by the way, I checked the windows; they’re too small for you to crawl out of….”

“I’m not going to sneak out in the middle of the night.”

“Oh, that’s good to know given your track record when it comes to staying put.”

The normal banter seemed to have settled Steve down. He was back to frustration. “I still don’t like hiding.”

“It’s not hiding if we’re actively going after the bad guys. And I told you that I’m going to catch these bastards. I’m a man of my word.”

“And where are you going to sleep?” Steve asked.

“Downstairs in the guestroom.” He left out the fact that it had the smallest bed in the house. Danny pointed toward the ceiling. “You get the master suite to sprawl all over, since you have the legs of a gazelle.”

“The master suite. Got it.”

Steve wasn’t stupid, but he didn’t complain or bristle at Danny’s gesture and that was a sign of progress in his book.

* * *

Early morning coffee with Hart was interesting. He was a bright-eyed but quiet, a myriad of emotions flashing across his face as he studied Danny from the opposite chair in the kitchen. Danny knew he’d had the last watch, but Hart didn’t show any signs of exhaustion.

“Steve slept on the floor,” Hart said like he was talking about the weather. “I checked up on him last night. He seemed like he was resting.”

“He spent some of his time restrained to a cot. We don’t know for how many hours of the day.”

It ate away at Danny to see how Steve’s captivity had impacted him; he couldn’t imagine what it was like for a friend, for Ohana. It tempered the small spark of jealousy stirring inside Danny anytime he was around Hart. 

“I’ve seen Steve with concussions and stab wounds. We’ve both been in-country for weeks without supplies. I’ve even held him during a horrible fever that had him sobbing over the deaths of his parents. But this…?” He slammed a hand on the table. “And I didn’t have his back?”

“I don’t have the right words, and I won’t insult you by trying,” Danny said. “I know this is hard, but you‘re here now. You’re helping.”

“How am I supposed to help if I don’t know what was done to him?”

Danny didn’t have the answers. He wished he did. He leaned back in his chair, trying to find a more neutral topic. “So, you live on Oahu?”

“No. Kind of. I’m here for a three month assignment. My family is on the mainland.”

“And after three months?”

“I don’t know, to be honest. Depends on the assignment. I’m retraining right now.”

Silence was a steady companion as Hart prepared his coffee. He got up and brought back a bottle of oil and the tray of butter. Danny stared. 

“Bulletproof coffee,” Hart said.

“What?”

“MCT oil and butter. It’s the most energizing cup of coffee you’ll ever have.”

Danny rolled his eyes and began wondering if he should check-up on Steve.

“I’d probably let him rest some more,” Hart said.

“You a mind reader now?”

“Just observant.” Hart sipped again. “I notice things.”

Oh, did he?

“I’d hope so, given your profession.” Danny put sugar in his coffee like a normal person. “You know we can’t stay here. It’s not secure. And it didn’t do what you hoped.”

Hart’s sunny disposition slipped. “Yeah, I know.”

“It was reckless, but I get why you did it. It’s hard seeing him this…different.”

“Steve is still inside there. The way he moves, speaks, the way he sizes up a situation. Whatever those bastards did to him…they didn’t….” Hart clenched his teeth. “They didn’t break him. Steve will be back.”

“He’s right here,” Danny reminded him.

The hiss of walkie talkie interrupted the tense silence. Hart spoke to Junior then looked back up at Danny. _“Agent Weston is coming up the driveway.”_

Danny stood. “Is Junior really on the roof? Because that’s kind of noticeable.”

Hart’s grin returned. “Not for a SEAL.”

* * *

Apparently, Weston didn’t mind butter in her coffee. She drank a whole cup as she paced in the kitchen.

Danny was impatient. “Did you make any headway with your contacts?”

“If by making headway you mean being told to stop asking questions about things that don’t exist? Then no. Whatever task force McGarrett spear-headed, it was more covert than I thought. I’ll get answers, but it might take a couple of days.”

“What about you?” Danny asked Hart. “You didn’t get on board with Steve’s new assignment. Why?” Hart pulled himself to his full height, but Danny would have none of the posturing. “Don’t even try any classified BS with me. We don’t have time for it.”

“The last mission Steve and I were on ended with casualties. We lost our CO. Steve took it…hard.”

“Took it hard as in?” Danny pushed.

“He…he took so many risks, like insane chances on missions, more than the usual stuff.” Hart shook his head. “He _changed_. Steve…he was relentless with every lead, every scrap of the puzzle. He went somewhere so deep, that no matter what I did, I couldn’t pull him out. He wouldn’t talk to me, started pushing me away. I’d just had a kid; I was so preoccupied.” Rubbing both hands over his face, he bowed his head. “I should have tried harder, damn it.”

Danny knew all about guilt, about double-guessing all of one’s worst decisions, being forced to live with the consequences. Knowing that Steve was in a bad place and not being able to do anything about it had to have been devastating. A spiteful part of Danny wanted to know why Hart didn’t try harder, too. But add in a new wife and a baby on the way, and he understood.

“You guys were working anti-terrorism at the time,” Weston said. “Your objective was to dismantle funding operations.”

“Someone read my file.”

“Those I could get my hands on.”

“Our team focused on large-scale opium operations,” Hart said like delivering a scripted sitrep. “We specialized in destroying the supply chain from production to distribution, destroying fields and sabotaging the ships used to transport large amounts.” 

“Were you targeting the same organization or various groups?” Danny asked. 

“We took out about a dozen operations, but in 2014 we began dismantling the one belonging to Masood Azhar, the leader of the Pakistani militant group. A group with links to Iran, Sudan and North Korea, and who some say is under the protection of the Chinese government.”

Danny raised his eyebrows; that sounded like a serious bad guy. 

“And your CO was killed on one of those missions?” Weston asked. 

“I can’t talk about the location. We were going after a poppy refinery, but it was an ambush.” Hart looked down at the floor, his voice quiet. “We lost four men, including Joe, our CO. But he was Steve’s mentor. A friend of his dad’s. He helped Steve through BUD/s.”

“That’s some serious motivation,” Danny commented. 

“Steve was obsessed with tracking down the person behind the operation. Someone was funding Azhar, but we didn’t have a face or a name.”

It was Weston’s turn to look bewildered. “He created a new taskforce to go after a ghost.”

“A ghost responsible for funding terrorist training camps operating in countries we were not allowed to interfere with.” 

Danny threw up his hands in anger. “And when were you going to share this valuable intel with us?”

Hart glared at him, but Danny didn’t care. This was relevant information and they didn’t have time for spy games. 

Danny’s phone started ringing along with Weston’s. Nostrils flaring, he walked into the far corner of the kitchen. “Williams.”

_“Danny, it’s Lou.”_

“What is it?”

_“That barbershop you went to yesterday?”_

“Yeah.”

_“There was an explosion. We think the owner was inside.”_

Danny’s jaw dropped. He looked over at Hart who stared at him expectantly. 

“Thanks, Lou. I’ll…. Let me call you back in a minute.” Hanging up, he looked over at Weston, whose complexion paled.

After finishing up her call, she took a moment before clearing her throat. She looked up at Danny. “You heard?”

“Yeah.”

“That was Agent Larkin, a member of my team. He said there’s a body inside. It’s early, but it doesn’t look like a random fire.”

_It was a bomb _was left unsaid. 

“What’s going on?” Hart demanded.

“I…I made sure Odell had an escort home,” Weston continued as if she hadn't heard him. She looked at her watch. “It’s eight in the morning. Why would he be there? Who needs a cut that early?”

The better question was: how did anyone know to target him? Danny patted at his hip for his weapon while Hart continued asking what was happening. 

Whoever was after Steve was willing to kill innocent people to get to him and they had just sent that message loud and clear.

* * *

Delivering the news of someone’s death was always a difficult ordeal; the day it got easy was the day Danny hung up the badge. Telling a person about the death of a friend whose history they couldn’t recall? Was even harder.

Hart, Weston, and Junior all hung out in the background while Danny gave Steve the news.

Steve’s empty expression lingered only long enough for it to devolve into guilt-ridden anger. “This is my fault.”

“No, it’s not,” Danny told him.

“They killed him because of his connection to me.”

“They, the bad guys, are the ones who –”

“A man is dead because we went to his shop.” Steve looked at some faraway spot on the wall. “Because he _knew me._”

“If anyone is to blame, it’s me.” Hart crossed his arms over his chest, his words stilted. “If they were after Steve, they could have had me under surveillance.”

“The blame game isn’t going to solve anything,” Weston said pragmatically, pulling them together. Danny admired her for that. “These people are dangerous; we know that. They murdered agents, kidnapped a Navy SEAL, and ran a black-ops site under our noses. The question is, what are we going to do about it?”

“We could trace the money?” Junior suggested. “Toast is working on that, right?”

“Yeah, he’s been trying to detangle the Thinner account to see if he can figure out his true identity,” Weston said. 

“We go back to the deli.” The warehouse and the Yakuza—they were connected. Danny pulled out his phone to contact Tani when it rang in his hand. “Williams.”

_“Detective Williams, please pass the phone to Commander McGarrett.”_

Danny’s blood ran cold. “Who is this?”

_“We really don’t have time for games, Detective.”_

Covering the mouthpiece, Danny hissed. “Trace this call.”

Junior and Weston pulled out on their phones to make it happen.

Rubbing his tongue over his teeth, Danny breathed through his nose and counted to three. He couldn’t lose it now. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

“Give me the phone, Danny.” Steve was no fool. He stepped closer, holding out his hand. “Please.”

Every part of him screamed _no_—don’t play the puppet, don’t dance. But he knew he didn’t have a choice. Danny put it on speaker instead, keeping his phone. 

“This is McGarrett.” It was the first time Danny had ever heard Steve use his last name.

_“Steve. It’s been a while.”_

Danny listened to the voice, trying to identify the speaker.

“Yeah?” Steve snapped. “And who am I talking to?”

_“I see you got my message this morning.”_

Steve glared at the phone like he wanted to pry it out of Danny’s hand and crush it into a million pieces. His nostrils flared. “There wasn’t any need to kill –”

_“Oh yes, there was. You are a very stubborn man and I needed to ensure that I had your full and undivided attention.”_

“You have it, you sonofabitch.”

_“Good. We need to meet.”_

“Fine. When and where?”

Danny’s eyes shot daggers in Steve’s direction. Not that it mattered.

_“Always so eager.”_

Steve grit his teeth. “I’m waiting."

_“No doubt with all your new friends. I need insurance that you will come alone.”_

“You got it.”

The other man _tsked_ over the speaker. _“While I got your attention this morning, I still need persuading about the last part.”_

Steve flicked his eyes at everyone in the room as if daring them to argue. “No one will follow me.”

_“Is that correct, Detective Williams? Agent Weston?”_

Danny bit his lip even when Steve glared at him.

_“That’s what I thought,”_ the man said. 

“Wait!” Danny yelled, not knowing what he was screaming about. Because that sounded like a threat.

Junior’s brow wrinkled in thought, his eyes growing larger. Scrambling for his phone, he hit speed dial. “Come on, come on….”

Danny’s heart started pounding at the implication of Junior’s thought pattern. Would Thinner go after their friends next?

“Tani! You need to evacuate now!” Junior yelled. “Don’t argue, just evac. You understand?”

Danny held his breath, desperate for a way to talk to the rest of his team, to his Ohana. He gripped his cell phone; their tormentor’s breathing was audible over the silence.

Junior paced. “Tani?”

_“I’m…kind of busy…running. Trying to get….”_

The rest of her sentence was cut off by an explosion. 

“Tani!” Junior screamed.

Danny felt like his heart was going to rip out of chest. His legs began shaking. 

Steve was breathing like he was running a marathon. Junior paced like a madman. 

_“We’re...we’re okay,”_ Tani blurted between heavy breaths. _“Everyone’s okay...the deli’s in flames though. God, all the people inside!”_

Danny hadn’t even realized he’d been holding his breath or that he was still gripping his cell phone with Thinner on the other end. “You sonofabitch!” Danny yelled. 

_“Next time it could be a shopping mall, or a school. Do not test me. McGarrett comes alone or more people will die. I’ll text the address. You have one hour.”_

The call ended. The text came seconds later. 

“Jesus, that’s the shipping port.” Danny checked the time on the phone. “Even with zero traffic, there is no way we’ll get there in time.”

“There’s no _we.”_

Danny did a double take at Steve. “The hell there isn’t.”

“You heard what he said.”

“Yeah, I have ears.”

“He said –”

“I don’t trust murderers. Do you?”

Steve gaped at him like he didn’t know how to respond to logic. 

Hart rested a hand on Steve’s shoulder, but Steve moved out of reach. Hart didn’t give up. “We’ll keep you under surveillance.”

“The port is crazy busy,” Junior pointed out.

“Easier to blend in,” Hart responded. 

Danny needed time to think. Junior was right. “It’ll be hard to follow him though a port that transports thousands of shipping containers a day.”

“Thinner is smart,” Weston said. “He’ll use the chaos to his advantage.”

Steve’d had enough. “You guys can keep talking, but I’ve got to—"

Danny snagged his sleeve as he tried to walk away. “Got to what? Catch a taxi? Because the last time I checked, you don’t have a car. Or are you going to steal another cell phone and take Uber to a hostage exchange? Oh wait, an exchange would mean a mutual trade between two people.”

Steve didn’t pull back despite his usual defensive instincts. Instead he drew himself tall. “He killed Odell; he almost killed your team. What if he –”

“What if a coconut falls and hits me on the head?” Danny tugged on Steve’s shirtsleeve and drew him closer, felt his anger and defiance like a blast of heat. “There are a million what ifs and just one hard truth. You will not go there alone and certainly not without a plan.” 

He finally let go of Steve’s shirt, trusting that he wouldn’t bolt. Instead, he stepped closer, looking up into Steve’s skeptical face, feeling the rapid puffs of air against his skin from Steve’s increased breathing. “We are not going in half-cocked. And yes, I said _we._ Because like hell will you just hand yourself over to this bastard.”

Steve released a heavy breath, relenting. He still hadn’t said a word, but he didn’t need to. Danny understood his anger, but he meant every word. There was no way he’d allow him to fall into Thinner’s hands. Never again. But he needed to present another alternative. And fast. 

“Now, I am a cop, and I’m in the company of three Navy SEALs and member of Homeland Security. Certainly the five us can come up with a plan.”

Junior squared his shoulders. “We follow Steve to the port, using two vehicles. This way, none of us lose him.” 

“I can get a chopper in the air in the next twenty minutes,” Hart said, pulling out his phone.

Weston shook her head. “You can’t enter the airspace over the port.” 

Then Danny would find another way; they were going to have good surveillance. “I’ll have Jerry get a drone.”

Steve eyed one of the rifle cases. “Who’s the best shot?”

A flicker of boastful playfulness spread across Hart’s face. “I beat your record by ten meters.”

Steve nodded. “Then I’ll make sure whatever happens, I give you enough time to get into position.”

Danny checked the time again. They needed to get moving. “Come on, I’m driving.” 

“Danny….”

When would Steve realize that Danny wasn’t going to leave his side? “When he sees the two of us, he’ll recognize you didn’t come with a SWAT team. This guy has all the cards and he knows it. He’ll deal with it. Now, let’s go.”

* * *

Multi-tasking was a skill, but today it was a do-or-die necessity. Danny coordinated how they would enter the port as he drove, while keeping Lou, Tani, and Jerry updated as they headed over to provide back up.

They had the best of the best covering the meeting, with enough firepower to take on a small army, yet Danny felt like they were about to walk into a buzz saw. 

Gnawing at his lip, he glanced at Steve, at the way he zoned out, staring at the front window. “Hey…you okay? I know, dumb question but….”

“Whatever happens, it’ll be over.” Steve exhaled a long, steady breath. “One way or another.”

That sounded way too fatalistic. Fuck that noise, Danny was in charge, damn it. There would be no dying on his watch. “Whoa, whoa, you need to stop talking like that or I’m turning this car around.”

Steve cleared his throat. “Roger that.”

Gripping the steering wheel between his sweaty fingers, Danny headed toward the exit.

* * *

The port was a maze of metal and moving vehicles. Danny weaved around flatbed trucks and giant forklifts. Everywhere he looked were stacks of shipping containers waiting to be moved. 

“Damn, this place is huge,” he cursed. 

“We need to keep heading north, according to the GPS,” Steve told him, reading Danny’s cell phone. 

“North? There’s a bunch of warehouses there, beside the terminals.” It would be an easy place to wait in ambush. It would take SWAT forever to canvas that many buildings. 

Steve peered out the passenger-side window. “There’s a ton of ships along the pier. How large is this operation?”

_“Honolulu-Harbor sees over two thousand vehicles in and out every day, and over four hundred ships,”_ Junior said over the coms.

Danny shook his head at Junior’s encyclopedic knowledge. He kept his speed slow, paranoid he might hit something. They went under the first of three straddelr carriers—giant cranes used to pick up containers from the docks and drop them off in stacking areas near the terminals.

Steve shifted in his seat. “The text says to go to loading area P5-127.”

“Where the fuck is that?” Danny glanced over at the GPS. “I doubt Google has pier coordinates.”

“According to this, it’s near Pier 5 by the basin,” Steve said. 

_“I think I know a way to get there ahead of you guys and scout it out for an ambush,” _ Junior said over the coms.

“That’s a good idea,” Danny told him, giving permission. 

_“I’ll remain on your six with Weston,”_ Hart informed them.

Junior would scout ahead, and Hart and Weston remained in the rear. Their positions were good. Danny rolled his neck. “Jerry, how’s that drone coming along?”

_“We’re like five minutes out.”_

Danny slowed down as one of the flatbed trucks turned into his lane in front of him. He risked a glance at Steve. “Tani, Lou, and Jerry are riding with SWAT. We’ll have plenty of back-up.”

“I’m not worried.”

A knot formed inside Danny’s stomach at the way Steve replied. Calm. Monotone. Detached. 

“Hey.” Danny reached over and patted Steve’s arm. “It’s okay to be scared.”

“I’m not.”

No, but Danny was. “Steve?”

Steve rubbed at his chafed wrists as he stared out the window. “This bastard has been in control of the entire chessboard, always five steps ahead while I stumbled around blindfolded.” Hands shaking, he gripped the phone. “He’s not in the shadows anymore, not inside my head, he’s here. _Right here.”_

“And we’ll finish this as a team. No going all Rambo on me. We started this journey together and we’ll finish it together.” Danny felt the familiar acid reflux of heartburn shoot through him. “Promise me we’ll end it together, too.”

Steve swallowed, then breathed in and out through his mouth, slow and measured. “I promise.”

Licking his lips, Danny went to offer more encouraging words when his car rattled—and a ball of fire shot out of a container on his far right. “Holy shit!”

Hart cursed over the radio. _“Fuck, there are like…three vehicles on fire! Shit, we’ve got to –”_

Vehicles meant drivers. Civilians. Casualties. 

“Break off and lend assistance!” Danny started slowing down. This was a diversion. “Damn it, we should abort….” He tapped his earpiece. “Tani? What’s your ETA?”

_“Four minutes out.”_

Steve smacked the dashboard. “Danny, we can’t fall for –”

“We need time to think.” Searching for a place to park out of the way, Danny turned toward one of the straddler carriers. “We’ll pull over here and –”

“Danny!” Steve shouted. 

The flatbed truck ahead of them braked hard. Danny yanked on the steering wheel to avoid hitting it head-on. The right side of the Camaro smashed into metal. Danny’s shoulder slammed against the side of the window. 

Everything stopped moving long enough to realize they had avoided a violent crash. The inside of the car was still fairly intact. Danny glanced at Steve, noting he seemed shaken but uninjured. There was no blood, no pieces of the car falling in on them.

Before Danny could ask if Steve was all right, he saw the grill of another truck in the rear mirror. “Hold on!”

The airbag went off, slamming into Danny as the sound of metal hitting metal filled his ears from being rear-ended. Struggling to catch his breath, he had enough wits about him to fumble for his weapon as the airbag deflated around him.

Panting beside him, Steve managed to yell over the coms about the crash as he struggled with his own airbag. 

Danny made out ‘attack’ and ‘back-up’ when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. People were circling the car from the front and rear. 

Danny noticed the Glock in Steve’s hand, heard his steady, determined breathing. 

Pulling his SIG out of his holster, Danny brought his weapon out as the driver’s side door was yanked open. 

“Watch out!” Steve shouted.

Danny aimed in the direction of the open door when he felt a horrible burning pain assail his chest and spread into his limbs, every muscle contracting until he felt nothing at all.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for involuntary drug use.

* * *

Danny couldn’t see beyond the darkness behind his eyelids. The air smelled like machine grease and solvent. His skin was clammy, and every muscle felt over-stretched and torn. Danny forced air into his lungs, battling against a raging headache, but a voice inside his head yelled at him to _ wake up, get moving!_

But…what happened, and why did he feel like total hell?

He struggled to open his eyes, every second like a drum of tension. 

As his body twitched, memories came slamming back in tattered fragments. The meet-up, the ambush, the fucking taser. Shit.

Jerking his head up, Danny startled to awareness, a spinning sensation slowing his focus to the spot in front of him. He’d been slumped over a table. 

Blinking more awake, a ceramic bowl and plate swam into view, followed by a spoon and a glass of water. “What the hell?” 

“Danny?”

He swung his head toward Steve’s voice, the fog clearing as he took in Steve sagged over the table in the chair next to him. He wasn’t restrained. “Steve?”

Looking down, Danny realized he wasn’t tied to the chair either; he could get up—if his legs still worked. Their assailants must have used the taser on them several times; normally the side effects never lasted this long. Or felt this bad. 

Steve rubbed at his eyes, groaning. “Danny….”

“Steve.” Danny’s legs twitched. “Where are–”

“I see both you’re finally awake.”

Danny followed the voice of a man who sat on the other side of the table adjusting the cufflinks of his designer suit. Danny hadn’t noticed him before, given his lingering vertigo and low lightening in the room. 

Once his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he squinted in familiarity. “I know you…” Danny racked his brain. A socialite or someone…no. A land developer? But he’d seen him around HPD…he gaped in recognition. _“You?”_

Steve sat up straighter, hands digging into the wooden armrests. “Who is…he?”

“Wo Fat. A fucking slick-dick entrepreneur known for schmoozing with politicians.” Danny felt his blood boil. “You’re him? You’re _Thinner?”_

Wo Fat sipped on a cup of tea like it was a Sunday afternoon between friends. “One always works from the shadows and stands in the sunlight.”

Steve forced himself up with his hands, his arms shaking with the effort. He clearly couldn’t stand yet, but it didn’t prevent him from trying. “What the hell do you want?”

“I have what I want.”

Danny tried reaching over to calm Steve, but his arm felt like one big charley horse. He managed to brush his hand over Steve’s bicep, felt the tremors beneath his skin. They had to remain focused, remain still, because Wo Fat was way too calm.

Swallowing, he tried taking in the rest of the room. It was bigger than his office at HPD. He tapped Steve’s wrist, pointing at the far corner. Two men stood behind Wo Fat. 

Steve lifted his head and stared past Wo Fat’s shoulder then turned slowly around in his chair, straining with the effort. He flashed two fingers. 

Two in the front and two behind them. Not to mention who might be on the other side of the door. 

A middle-aged man walked out from the shadows and poured water in each of their glasses before stepping away. 

“We have a waiter? What’s next, soup?” Danny asked. Wo Fat played with one of his cufflinks again. Annoyed, Danny tried another question. “Where are we?” 

“On a ship,” Steve answered when Wo Fat didn’t. “This is a private galley.”

Danny suddenly realized he could feel the bob of the ocean below them. Fuck. He curled and uncurled his hands, but his fingers along with the rest of him were one giant knot of spasms from the electric shock. How many volts had they used?

“Despite my demands that Commander McGarrett come alone, I’m glad we finally have time to chat, Detective.”

Oh, _now_ Danny was being addressed? “Yeah? Did I bust some of your cronies or something?” 

“In a manner of speaking. Your vendetta with Hiro Noshimuri cost certain people a considerable amount of money.”

His breath caught in his throat, heart pounding. What did Wo Fat know about his feud with Hiro? 

But he couldn’t allow Wo Fat to see his reaction. The longer he kept Wo Fat talking, the more time he and Steve had to recover. “What do you do for Yakuza? Money laundering? You seem to like the Bitcoin enough. I'm sure they’ve got plenty of eggheads to do though. Maybe they needed a high-end errand boy. Why else would they contract outside the family?”

Wo Fat sipped his tea again and the waiter came over and refilled it.

“You’ve always had a sharp tongue, never knowing your place. It’s gotten you in trouble plenty of times.”

“The last time I checked I was doing all right.”

“Yes, your _taskforce_, started because of that troublesome brother.”

Anger surged inside him. “You don’t know anything about—” 

“You mean how he used shell companies to hide ten million dollars, but lost some of it gambling? Paid off too many people with too many hands on the ledger then begged the Feds to spare him from prison. And you, falling for every promise like a rookie.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Who is the high price errand boy, Detective Williams? Matt or his hothead brother who began a war with Hiro Noshimuri he had no hope of winning?”

“Except for the dozens of arrests and dismantling all major Yakuza operations. Not too shabby for a hothead.”

“A hothead who lives inside a prison of his own making, a cop who violated his own principles to win. I wonder.” Wo Fat flicked his gaze toward Steve. “Does Commander McGarrett know what led to the escalation of violence? What caused you to send your child to the mainland and your wife to divorce you?”

Wo Fat smirked. “Does he know how you framed Hiro’s sons and sent them to prison?”

Danny trembled with uncorked emotion. Hate and despair burned like acid in his stomach. 

“Planting evidence, whispering to the prosecuting attorney….” Wo Fat _tsked._ “I’ve got to admit, that got my attention.”

“Michael Noshimuri was a drug-dealing murderer –”

“So, he deserved it?”

“His drugs killed children.”

“And his brother…Adam?” Wo Fat cocked his head. “What crime did he commit? Tax evasion seems very Al Capone.”

“I helped get him early parole.”

“Yes, after two years of false imprisonment.” Wo Fat sipped his tea again. “I admit you earned my respect. In war there are no rules, no limits. I kept you alive just in case I needed a cop whose ethics could be manipulated. You owe me.”

“I _owe_ you?”

“Hiro was out of control. Reckless. Long, drawn-out wars cost money. Bad for business. The Yakuza requested my services to act on their behalf on the islands.” Wo Fat leaned back in his chair. “I killed Hiro and sent you little gifts in the mail.”

Bile burned the back of Danny’s throat. “You’re the sick-fuck who….” Mutilated a man. Caused Danny to go out of his mind for months over who might have sent him pieces of Hiro. It was one of the reasons he remained in a secured building, kept his distance from his family. Lived every day wondering if someone would shoot him in the back of the head. “You bastard.”

He risked another glance at Steve, at the person from whom he’d so desperately tried to hide his deception, how he’d framed two men and sent them to jail. How he was a hypocrite. 

Danny started to rise on unsteady legs, but he stopped short as he heard the guards behind him move. 

“Don’t, Danny.” He froze at the steel in Steve’s voice, at the stiff way he held his body.  
“He’s just screwing with us.”

“You think I’m lying?” Wo Fat asked. 

“No, I think you like to watch people squirm,” Steve answered.

“Do I?”

“Most psychopaths are the same; you’re no different.”

“And do you know many psychopaths, Steve?” Wo Fat stared at him, inquisitive. “From what I understand, you don’t know many people at all. Such a far cry from the man who followed my every step for a year. Like a rabid dog searching for his bone, but I guess you can’t find that either.”

Thinning his lips, Steve growled. “What did you do to me?”

“I sold you, Steve.”

Danny’s stomach dropped. He was not expecting that answer. And based on Steve’s slacked-jaw reaction, neither did he. 

“What?” Danny demanded.

“Ironic, isn’t it?” Wo Fat humphed under his breath. “How two people so bent on revenge should cross paths now. You were a very annoying thorn, Steve. A thorn I was going to pluck out and crush. But then you came to Oahu, and, well, that presented another, greater opportunity.”

“An opportunity for what?” Steve demanded.

“To get information and to learn from the best doing it.”

Steve shook his head. “You’re talking in riddles.”

Wo Fat leaned forward, narrowing his eyes. “He still doesn’t remember. Fascinating.”

“It is, isn’t it?” a voice said from behind them.

Danny swirled around as the _waiter_ put an arm around Steve’s chest and plunged a needle into the side of his neck. 

“What the hell!” Before Danny could do anything, the guards in front of Wo Fat pointed their rifles his direction.

Steve slumped forward in his chair, slapping both hands onto the table to keep himself from sliding to the floor. “What…did…?”

“Something to take the edge off. I wouldn’t want you to injure another one of my men.” The waiter put the syringe on a tray that one of the guards held out for him. “You should recognize the effects soon enough.”

Regardless of the weapons pointed at him, Danny laid a hand on Steve’s shoulder as he glared at the man who had injected him. “You touch him again and I’ll–”

“This is General Kang,” Wo Fat said, getting up and walking over to stand beside Danny. “He’s a man of considerable talents. I suggest you calm down, Detective.”

“General?” Danny stared at the other man. “You seem to be lost. Maybe you should go back to your army."

“General Kang works for The Chinese Ministry of State Security,” Wo Fat explained. “And he is the former head of their counter-intelligence program.”

“Former?” Steve asked, slurring slightly. 

“Masood Azhar was a very important asset for many different people.” Wo Fat stood behind Danny, the symbolic threat clear. “Your constant interference would no longer be tolerated.”

Steve struggled to keep his head up. Licking his lips, he glared at Kang. “Don’t you speak…? Or does your lap dog do it for you?”

“Did you know the cerebral cortex is the center of the most complex mental activities?” Kang asked, as though talking to a classroom of students. 

Danny felt the muzzle of a gun pressed into the back of his skull. Wo Fat wasn’t taking any chances. 

Steve looked in Danny’s direction in a daze, his lips thinning at what he saw. Danny kept his chin up despite the pressure of the weapon against his head. 

A guard brought over a tray, and Kang picked up a vial with a strip of white tape and began filling his syringe with it. “Certain doses of barbiturates impair the cerebral cortex, and at higher dosages, the cortex no longer actively integrates information.”

Steve clenched his jaw, his body trembling with strung-out rage, but he remained still as Kang returned to his side. 

Self-loathing filled Danny’s core at being used to keep Steve in line. Forcing him to be drugged again. He slammed a fist against the chair arm.

“Using chemicals for interrogations is an art form. Bringing each patient to stupor, waiting for a state of semiconscious before _stimulating_ them to speak.” Kang shifted his focus to Wo Fat. “Your specialty, of course.”

Danny felt Wo Fat bow his head, accepting praise for weeks of inflicting physical torture. Danny was dizzy with hatred.

“The key though, is manipulation. Asking about innocuous matters,” Kang said, jerking Steve’s head as he spoke. “How many years were you in the Navy? When did you become a Navy SEAL?”

Steve glared in response and Kang dipped toward Steve’s ear. “Keeping their mind off your true target. Adding more amytal while questioning proceeds.”

Kang injected Steve in the neck again.

“Fuck you, asshole,” Danny almost leapt up, but Wo Fat pressed the muzzle harder into his skull.

“Don’t that again,” Wo Fat snarled. 

“Don’t, Danny,” Steve groaned, bending over in his chair. “Please…just…don’t….”

Indifferent, Kang continued talking. “Just keep introducing random topics to diminish suspicion of the real goal, delaying the interrogation until the subject is back in the proper stage of narcosis.” Kang dug his fingers into Steve’s shoulder. “Where is the rest of your team?”

Steve shook his head, sucking in a breath. Sweat beaded down his face. “I…I don’t know….”

Kang smiled in confirmation. “The key is keeping the subject in twilight consciousness longer than usual. This type of interrogation period lasts only five to ten minutes at a time but can be reintroduced by injecting more amytal and putting the patient back into a stupor.”

Kang loomed over Steve this time. “Of course, after a week of this, of putting you under and bringing you back, over and over and over again…you still didn’t break.”

“What do…what….” Steve’s question faded as his head dropped to his chest before he forced it up again. 

Again, Kang ignored Steve, didn’t acknowledge his question. “Given your resistance to our methods we needed to go deeper, of course. Adding more chemicals, increasing sleep deprivation, manipulating your sense of time. Confusion led to fear, delusions approaching delirium.”

“What was so goddamn important?” Danny yelled. 

Kang paused, watching Steve as he struggled to remain upright in the chair. “Do you remember where you grew up?” Steve stared at him, eyes glazed over. “What’s your favorite color?”

Sweat poured down Steve’s face. “T-that’s…not…what…what….”

“How do you know what I wanted to know? Do you remember?”

Steve’s brow furrowed. Kang snapped his fingers. 

The guard returned with a third vial. Danny couldn’t take it anymore, readying to attack. But Wo Fat must have sensed what Danny was preparing to do. He whispered in Danny’s ear. “I’ll blow your brains all over him.”

Danny would risk it.

“You still have a child on the mainland; do you think I didn’t take precautions?” Wo Fat asked. “What do you think will happen to her if I don’t make a phone call later today?”

Danny’s hands trembled, frantic to punch and strangle Wo Fat if he could. 

Kang injected Steve again. “And here comes the rush, something to keep the subject off-balance and counteract the sedation.”

This was how they killed Agent Kaye, alternating between barbiturates and stimulants in rapid succession. “Stop it!” Danny screamed.

“We’re rushing things, of course,” Kang said. “Interrogation takes time. Patience. Normally, you’d want to sedate the subject over a much longer period, increasing the disconnection before introducing stimulants. But I don’t have that luxury right now.” 

Panting, Steve jerked his head from Kang to Danny to Wo Fat. He blinked and shook his head, his breathing rapid and labored.

“I’m curious…how many doses do you think your heart will tolerate this time around?” Kang asked.

Steve’s chest heaved, his muscles taut under his shirt, shoulders shaking. 

“What did you eat for breakfast?” Kang asked.

“Cereal…I….”

“What’s your favorite song?”

“W-what?” Steve began rocking in the chair.

“How did you do it, Commander?” Kang lowered himself to his haunches. “How did a set of rogue operatives work for that long without support? Who in the PLA helped you?”

Steve groaned, clutching his head. 

“What’s your sister’s name?”

“M-mary….”

“Who in my military assisted in your operations?”

Steve muttered under his breath and Kang leaned closer to listen. “Peter…Fucking…Pan….”

Growling, Kang back-handed Steve across the face before standing to his full height. Exuding his normal cold demeanor again, he finished his warped lecture. “Extreme sensory deprivation and isolation is a particularly effective penalty, causing the subject to slip away from any sense of reality. Even making them lose all sense of personal identity…. ”

Steve sucked in a breath. God, his pupils looked enormous.

“A ship is waiting for us, Commander. A freighter. It’ll take seven days to reach Shanghai. I’ve got a crew building what is needed.” Kang watched Steve. “Tell me. Do you remember the white room?”

Steve started shaking. Danny felt tears of rage pool in the corner of his eyes. 

“Maybe I’ll put Detective Williams inside the white room.” Kang hummed under his breath. “How do you think he would fare?”

“No!” Steve exploded. He launched himself at Kang and head butted him, then began slamming him against the wall over and over again.

All four guards in the room were on top of Steve in seconds. 

Wo Fat’s shoulders brushed against Danny back as he shifted in response. The gun muzzle lifted away from his skull.

Danny surged to his feet and swung his elbow back and connected with Wo Fat’s jaw. Spinning around, he knocked the gun down, kicking it away.

Years of fury guided his fists. He pounded Wo Fat’s head and face, pain lancing through his knuckles and fingers.

Blood pounded behind his eardrums, but Danny still heard the grunts and yells from the fight behind him, Steve yelling as if a demon possessed. 

If he was going to help Steve, he needed to take out Wo Fat. 

But his enemy wouldn’t go down. It was if he liked the beating, toying with him. Wo Fat started ducking under Danny’s swings and countering them. A fist connected with Danny’s face then his mouth. He tasted blood. 

Another blow clipped his temple. Stumbling actually saved him from a more-vicious assault to the head. 

He flinched at the sound of an assault rifle. Holy shit. Danny risked a glance behind, caught a glimpse of Steve wielding an AK-9. 

Wo Fat used the split-second distraction by using a roundhouse kick. Danny barely avoided it to his face.

God, the bastard was fast. 

With his back slamming the edge of the table, Danny blindly grabbed at anything to use as a weapon. 

Snagging a soup bowl, Danny launched it at Wo Fat’s head. Wo Fat threw his hands up to protect his face. _This was it. _

With all his might Danny charged, screaming, and drove his fist right into Wo Fat’s throat.

Wo Fat gasped, choking. 

Out of the corner of his eye Danny saw Steve swing a wooden chair into a guard. 

Danny dove to the ground and grabbed the gun. Wo Fat rolled on the floor making horrible gurgling noises. 

Rising to his feet, Danny stared at the man responsible for years of paranoia, of not knowing if he and his family were ever safe. A sadistic fuck who murdered and tortured for pleasure. 

Larynx probably crushed, the asshole still crawled toward him. 

Danny kicked him in the head. Wo Fat slumped onto to his back, unmoving.

Dizzy with adrenaline, Danny spun around to face the other side of the room. It was carnage. 

Three guards were on the floor bleeding out from bullet holes. The AK-9 rifle lay on the floor as if thrown. A fourth guard with a smashed face tried picking himself from off the floor. Danny shot him in the leg.

Steve and Kang were locked in a fight in the corner. Danny swung his weapon in that direction, but he didn’t have a shot.

Kang had Steve in a chokehold. There wasn’t anywhere he could shoot without hitting Steve. 

Kang held Steve from behind. One arm was looped around Steve’s neck and under his chin. Kang’s other hand was behind Steve’s head, forcing it into the crook of his flexed arm.

“Did you think I’d allow some rogue agents to take down me down?” Kang snarled. “I killed you once, I’ll do it again.”

Screw this. Danny lowered his weapon and rushed over.

“No!” Steve gasped. “Don’t….”

Danny froze. Jesus. 

Face reddening with every second, Steve bent his upper body forward, away from the chokehold. As he folded himself, Steve swung his right fist downward, punching Kang in the groin. 

Kang let go of Steve in shock. Steve stood and turned, swinging his hand toward Kang, his splayed fingers catching him in the eyes.

Kang screamed, clutching his face.

Steve staggered away, his right arm cradled around his injured ribs. A fresh cut bled sluggishly over his left eye while blood dripped from the corner of his lip. 

Inches separated everyone. Growling, Kang blindly lashed out and clocked Steve in the face.

Steve’s head jerked back from the impact, but he stood his ground despite how badly his body was shaking. 

Damn. How much epinephrine had they Steve injected with? And it would it keep him going?

Danny stepped forward to end things, but Steve threw out a hand, missing him by inches. The message was clear. This was his fight.

“You tortured me for weeks,” Steve snarled between pants for breath. “For what? What was so important?” His desperation, the cracking of Steve’s voice tore at Danny’s heart.

“I’ve spent thirty years defending my country. Creating a program to protect it no matter the cost. And you expect me to believe that _you_ and a handful of people almost destroyed it? _ Without help?_” Kang snorted, his voice going guttural. “If I had to, I’d spend the rest of my life ripping the names of those traitors out of your head. One at a time.” 

Steve stared, incredulous, swaying on his feet. “So, you took away all my memories because you couldn’t get the ones you wanted?”

“Confusion was the goal. The rest was an unexpected by-product,” Kang said like it was no big deal. “Your growing memory loss proved useful. Maybe if you didn’t know who you were, if I erased everything else. I could peel you back like an onion until I got what I wanted.” Leaning against the wall, he pulled a knife from an ankle holster. “You should thank me. From what I could tell, you didn’t like yourself very much.”

No amount of adrenaline could help Steve, who was injured and unarmed, in a knife fight. 

Despite Steve’s wishes, Danny would not allow Kang to hurt him anymore. He stepped beside Steve, pointing his weapons at Kang’s chest, ready to –

Kang lunged toward Steve.

Steve ripped Danny’s gun out of his hand and squeezed the trigger three times. 

Kang dropped dead. 

_Holy shit._

Cradling his fingers, Danny shook his stinging hand. “Damn it, that hurt.”

But Steve didn’t appear to hear him, the gun slipping from his fingers to the floor.

“Steve?”

Raspy breaths coming in and out in like a steam-train. Steve took a step away from Danny.

“It’s okay, we’re okay.” They still had to escape the ship, but Danny could only focus on one thing at a time. “Steve, can you hear me?”

Steve looked at Danny in confusion. Sweat poured down his face; his pupils were enormous. 

“Come on, Steve. Take my hand. We need to get out of here.”

Steve tensed, his muscles bulging beneath his t-shirt.

“You just killed a room full of people because they threatened to hurt me.” Danny was still trying to get over that fact. “You know me, you know my voice.”

Struggling to remain on his feet, Steve stumbled back another step, squinting at him. “Danny?”

Relief flooded Danny’s system. “Yeah, it’s me.”

“Danny.” Steve said his name like he was clinging to it. 

“Yes, babe. But we don’t have time for this. We have to go.” It was a surprise that a dozen guards hadn’t come running in at the sound of the gunfire. 

Grabbing Steve’s sweaty forearm, Danny started tugging him toward the door, just before it burst open in front of them.

“Freeze! Hands up in the air, now!”

Men in all black surrounded them. Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

“On your knees, on your knees!”

Danny jerked Steve down to the ground, shielding him. “I am Detective Danny Williams, and this is Commander Steve McGarrett.”

The assault rifles that had been pointed at them were suddenly aimed at the floor.

“We have secured the packages,” someone said.

“Detective Williams, Commander McGarrett, we’re here to take you to Lieutenant Hart.”

Oh, thank God. Danny regained his feet, pulling Steve with him.

Someone introduced themselves, but Danny didn’t catch their name or rank. He was too busy keeping Steve upright. Whatever combination of drugs he’d been given was finally taking their toll. “We need a medic.”

“PO Johnson will take you topside and do a quick examination. Can you and Commander McGarrett walk?”

“Yes,” was Steve’s terse reply. 

“With help,” Danny added. 

“I’m fine,” Steve said, despite leaning heavily on Danny.

Danny was too busy moving to give a sarcastic reply, a hurried escort through corridors and whipping wind drowning out any words. 

They were whisked into a black helicopter of all things and were in the air a minute later. 

A blanket was thrown over Danny’s shoulders, followed by the mother of all adrenaline crashes. But Danny kept his eyes open, forced himself awake and present, trying to keep track of Steve while inside the helicopter.

And while he clung to awareness, trying to pay attention to everything that occurred around him, Danny allowed himself to finally, quietly, freak out.


	11. Chapter 11

* * *

Military rescues meant military bases. They arrived at Pearl-Hickman in minutes. 

Danny was the last to disembark the chopper despite his efforts otherwise. But he wasn’t a SEAL and didn’t want to be checked over despite feeling like a punching bag. He frantically searched the helo-pad and caught a glimpse of Steve being hauled off on a gurney, surrounded by the SEALs who’d found them. 

Lieutenant Hart was waiting on him a few meters away from the landing area, for which Danny was eternally grateful because his threat assessments were going a million miles an hour. “I need to follow Steve….”

“He’s unconscious, Danny. But he’s in good hands. I promise,” Hart added. 

There was no trace of panic in Hart’s eyes regarding Steve, and Danny had to rely on that because there was too much going on, so much danger. “My daughter, Wo Fat threatened her, he said—”

“We got her. I contacted Lieutenant Kelly and he took her into protective custody. Weston also got a team to protect your ex-wife and her family.” 

“Thank God.” He felt almost weak with relief. 

“We made arrangements after the ambush.”

Hart was all business, pragmatic and strategic. Danny noted he was dressed in full fatigues. 

He nodded, grateful. “How did you find us?”

“We found the remains of the ambush and car crash. I had Jerry use his drone to search for all suspicious vehicles. After he recorded the license plates of a dozen different cars, your team used the port surveillance to retrace them all.” Hart pressed his lips together. “We located the ship you and Steve were transported to a couple hours later.”

That must have been agony, all the waiting, the not knowing. “I’m surprised you didn’t lead the rescue team.”

“I spent most of my time calling in favors to get one scrambled based on my word.”

Danny glanced around the helicopter pad. This was unfamiliar territory, military. “Is he going to be safe here?”

“This is Pearl,” Hart said, like there was nowhere safer. 

“And he’s been part of a secret operation no one knows about, was MIA, and then miraculously rescued by a SEAL Team.” Out of habit, Danny checked to see if anyone was eavesdropping. “The CIA’s going to be bucking at the chance to interview him, AKA, _interrogate. _And I won’t—”

“Whoa, whoa, like I said, I used a lot of favors, including having Steve transferred to Tripler once he’s stable.”

“But the CIA—” 

“Won’t know. Because Commander Steve McGarrett was never here.”

Danny quirked an eyebrow. “Oh, wow. That’s…that’s pretty remarkable.”

Hart held his head high. “I’ve got my boy’s back.”

He did indeed. Danny was glad that Steve had such a devoted friend, that he’d instilled such loyalty in him. Blowing out a breath, Danny bounced on the balls of his feet. “I need to see him.”

“Come on, I’ll lead you to medical.”

* * *

_Medical_ was a freaking clinic and it was closed except for one patient. Steve was in an exam bed of what looked like a doctor’s office, surrounded by the medic who had met them at the helo and another member of the SEAL team who rescued them.

“For a Navy base this place seems very inadequate,” Danny remarked. 

“This is a place for operations,” Hart said. “That’s why there’s Tripler.”

Steve sat straight up with the head of the bed raised. An oxygen mask covered his face, and his eyes darted around the room. He looked ready to bolt at any second. It felt like déjà vu.

The medic, PO Johnson, watched the BP cuff gauge with a pinched expression. “You’re doing great, Steve. I know you’re feeling like you’re having the mother of all anxiety attacks, but it’s going to lessen. I promise.”

Steve shook his head and yanked the mask off his face. “Where’s—“

“Hey, hey, put that back on,” Danny admonished him.

Steve stared at Danny hard, his hundred-yard stare melting into relief. “Danny.”

Danny’s heart did a little flip. “This needs to go back on; you sound like a train whistle.” Danny grabbed the mask and gently put it back over Steve’s nose and mouth. “Breathe. Nice and easy.”

Steve’s breath fogged over the mask, every line of his body taut, the veins in his throat straining with his muscles. 

PO Johnson checked his watch then the BP gauge again, biting his lip. But Danny knew this drill, knew only time and fluids would help until Steve came down from the epinephrine. 

So, Danny talked, about crazy frogmen and air turbulence, rambled about the flight over. “Black helicopters, Steven. We flew in a black helicopter. And I didn’t even get to see Agent Scully.”

Steve chuckled under the mask.

The bed didn’t have railings. Danny perched on the side and continued a one-sided conversation until Steve’s shoulders began dropping and his eyes fluttered open and closed in a constant struggle to stay awake. Danny noticed that his brother’s watch was gone, probably lost in the fight. He was too exhausted to feel its loss.

Trains of thoughts winding down, Danny noticed that Steve’s chest had stopped heaving as his breathing evened out. Until Danny thought it wasn’t moving at all. Eyes wide, he searched out the medic.

Johnson flicked his focus from the BP gauge to where his finger rested at the pulse point of Steve’s wrist. “The epinephrine breaks down faster than the barbiturates. BP and pulse go from abnormally fast to abnormally slow. I’m monitoring for those effects on his respiration and blood pressure.”

Danny had witnessed his fair share of overdoses from a mix of heroin and cocaine. “Like a speedball.”

“Exactly. I’m going to continue to observe his vitals until they stabilize before authorizing the transfer to Tripler.” When Danny didn’t move, Johnson cleared his throat. “He’s going to sleep for the rest of the night.”

Danny didn’t plan on budging, but Hart nodded at him. “Your team is waiting for you. They, um…insisted on coming.”

If Steve_ was never here_, as it were, it would be best if his team didn’t tear the place apart until they got to talk to him.

“Yeah, okay. That’s a good idea.” Danny looked up at Hart. “Thanks, Lieutenant, for everything.”

“I think, after today, you can call me Freddie.”

* * *

It felt like walking through a maze. Freddie guided him through corridors until they arrived at a set of double doors. Pushing them open, Danny was rushed by every member of his team.

Lou practically crushed him in a bear hug. Danny grunted. Damn, was he sore. It felt good to be with his Ohana as he hugged Lou back, relishing the familiarity. 

After Lou released him and Danny caught his breath, Tani pulled him close and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “I’m glad you’re all right.”

Danny beamed, grateful for his team, for their reliability. He searched for his partner. 

Junior looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole, bracing himself for a reprimand. “I’m sorry, sir. I should have–”

Danny hugged Junior before he could continue to berate himself for an attack he couldn’t predict or control. “Thanks for finding us.”

“I wanted to be on the op to extract you, but –”

“But your expertise was better served here.” Danny clapped Junior on the back. “Besides, I don’t want you getting any ideas, so….”

“No worries, sir. My place is on our team.”

Danny’s heart swelled with so much appreciation and pride that his breath started to hitch – and once it started, he couldn’t stop trying to catch his breath. Because for the first time in the last few hours, all his barriers had been broken wide-open and the events from the ship began to overwhelm him. 

“Hey, man. You okay?” Lou asked him in concern.

While he’d given in to a mini-freak out in the chopper, his brain had been so focused on survival, on Steve, that he’d never realized the other reason why he’d been on the brink of a break-down.

“It’s over…it’s….” Danny sucked in a breath, his heart a jackhammer in his chest. “I killed the guy who murdered Hiro. The asshole responsible for making me feel like a hunted animal.”

“Thinner killed Hiro?” Lou asked incredulously. “And you killed Thinner?”

“He’s a psychopath…or was.” Danny’s thoughts were a jumble in his head. “He thought I’d be…I’d be_ grateful._” His acid reflux burned through his chest. 

“Damn,” Tani said. “How? I mean, what are the odds?”

“Who was he?” Junior growled, vibrating with anger. 

“Wo Fat.”

“What?” Lou asked. 

“Wait,” Tani said, holding up her hand. “That sleazy guy who appeared at the HPD Christmas party for two minutes to drop of a fundraising check and made creepy expressions?”

“Yeah, him,” Danny growled. 

“He’s the one who abducted Commander McGarrett?” Junior asked, confused.

“No. Well, yes. Wo Fat kidnapped Steve to hand over to a Chinese military General.”

Tani shook her head, bewildered. “Dude, you lost me.”

“Yeah, well, I’m still trying to put those pieces together.” Danny rubbed both hands over his face. “And as soon as Steve is ready to transport, we’re getting him the hell out of here.”

Speaking of…. Danny looked around and noticed Freddie had walked away. Not to mention, there was one person who was still MIA.

Junior, like always, picked up on Danny’s thought process. “Agent Weston wanted you to know she’ll meet you at HPD, but she wanted to be involved in the identification process of the bodies before certain people arrived.”

Danny didn’t blame her. She’d lost people, lost a close friend. Wo Fat and Kang more than likely would be whisked away by another black helicopter, and she deserved to face the people responsible for the death of a loved one.

Hopefully they would be able to help her and Steve, because the two people who had all the answers to all their remaining questions were on their way to Hell.

* * *

His team insisted he get checked over and Danny submitted to an exam. He had a black eye and a sore jaw. His heart rate was fine given how many times he’d been tased. He neglected to tell the medic about the car crash. He might have taken four Advil. Junior watched him like a hawk until Danny shooed him away.

After two more hours the medic deemed Steve fit to transport later that night, but stated that Danny could not be part of the transfer to Tripler because of military rules. Before Danny could put a stop to that, Freddie assured him that he’d be part of the transport; Steve would not get lost in the shuffle. 

Tani and Lou went back to HPD to write notes on the deli explosion. Junior waited for Danny so he could give him a ride to the hospital. Danny finally got a text from Weston telling him she’d meet him back at work. 

Danny was alone in a tiny corner of an office belonging to the head of maintenance, surrounded by cleaning supplies. Blowing out a breath, he dialed the familiar number.

_“Dad?”_

“Hey, Monkey.” Danny did everything to keep his voice steady, but it shook despite how hard he fought it. 

_“Dad, what’s going on?” _Grace sounded scared. _“Uncle Chin and Sara grabbed me and said I needed to stay with them. Are you in danger?”_

“Not anymore.” Finally, he could say the words. 

_“What does that mean?”_

“It means….it means you’ll never have to look over your shoulder again.”

_“Does it mean that…you’re safe. Forever?”_

“I can’t guarantee forever…but yeah. I’m safe.” From Wo Fat, from the constant fear that his family was in danger. 

_“Oh, Danno. I…I love you.”_

“I love you too, Monkey. I love you so much.” Danny wiped tears out of his eyes. “And I plan on visiting you really soon.”

_“I hope so. I can’t wait to see you again!”_

Danny ended the call with a hand over his face, wrung out on adrenaline and overwhelming relief.

* * *

Danny hated unanswered questions. He’d led a life of paranoia because of them. If he didn’t strike while the iron was hot and find out what type of operation Steve had been on to cause his abduction, then he’d never move past it. The not-knowing was like a slow-moving rot eating away at happiness.

He got Junior to drop him off at HPD before going to Tripler and headed straight to their in-house hacker.

“I want to know everything about Commander Steve McGarrett’s last assignment.”

Toast looked at him like he’d just suggested he grow wings and jump off a building. “First off, you look like shit. Second, you want me to try to hack into one of the most guarded networks in the world and look for records on a guy who, by definition of being a Navy SEAL, has no biometrics on file? Not to mention who was engaged in off the books assignments for the CIA or worse?”

“Yes.”

Junior grimaced. “Um, sir—” 

“I don’t want to be told it’s impossible.”

“Okay, I won’t.” Toast folded his arms over his chest. “It’s just not possible for me. We’re talking SOCOM…records protecting the most elite people in the world. If it could be hacked, their records would be on the dark web for the highest bidder.”

“The Chinese knew,” Danny said.

“The Chinese basically invented hacking.”

This wasn’t the answer he was looking for. Danny leaned both hands on the table. “We need that file.”

“Dude, there probably isn’t even a file to be found. Black ops people don’t create paper trails.” Toast threw his hands up in the air. “I’m sorry, I’m out.”

* * *

Danny was not ready to back down, but he needed information. He paced in front of the surface table, looking around at the empty room. He’d sent Tani and Lou home an hour ago.

“I thought Weston was meeting us here?” Danny asked Junior during his third circuit. 

“That’s what she said.”

“Then where is she?” Danny tried calling her cell but there was no answer. It’d been eight hours since the rescue. 

“Maybe you should get some rest. I’m sure Commander McGarrett is sleeping.”

“I bet he isn’t.”

Junior frowned. “They won’t let us see him. It’s three in the morning, sir. Come on, you need to at least take a shower. You kind of smell like a footlocker.”

Danny paused during circuit number four, his brain catching up to his ears. “You’re seriously commenting on how I smell?”

“A footlocker that was dropped in a bunch of dead fish, if we’re being honest.”

“That’s cold.”

“A shower and an hour on your sofa,” Junior said, changing tactics. “Then you can go.”

“A shower and coffee,” Danny countered. 

“A shower, thirty minutes, _and_ coffee.”

Junior was getting much better at negotiations; it was annoying. “Fine. I’ll sleep on the ride there. That’s my snooze time.”

“Roger that.”

Danny allowed his partner to feel victorious even though he was still getting what he wanted in the end.

* * *

Walking down the stairwell in the parking garage. Danny pushed open the door to the parking garage and spotted three people out of the corner of his eye. He drew his weapon. Junior already had his SIG out.

“Whoa, stand down,” Freddie said, holding up his hands.

“Do you want to get shot in the face?” Danny growled. Then he spotted Agent Weston beside him. “Where the hell have you been?”

“Getting the answers.” She looked around. “We need a place to talk.”

Danny did a double take when Dr. Max Bergman emerged from behind her. “Why are you here?”

“I’m not sure. I thought I was being kidnapped, but I was told this was about a matter of utmost importance.”

Weston held up a flash drive. “We need somewhere with no prying eyes or ears. Not even your apartment.”

Danny holstered his weapon. “I know just the place.”

* * *

Danny watched Freddie and Weston stare at the cramped room he’d escorted them into. Bergman poked at the stacks of books with an intrigued expression, and Junior found a place against the wall to lean.

“This is Jerry’s office in the basement of HPD. It’s safe and bug free.” Danny crossed his arms. “We can talk.”

“I might have poked around where I wasn’t welcomed, burned every bridge that existed, including the one holding up my career, to get this.” Weston clutched the thumb drive tightly between her fingers. “And when we’re done here, I’m destroying it.”

“Is that Steve’s file?” Danny asked. 

“Most of it.” She considered the tiny device with a morbid expression. “I’ve spent the last couple of hours reading it. And I thought we needed to talk about it.”

“Without him present?” Freddie asked, his offense palatable. 

“Yes.”

“Go on,” Danny encouraged, despite the air of tension.

Freddie’s cheek protruded from his clenched jaw. 

“As Lieutenant Hart informed you, his team was ambushed two years ago on a mission, and their CO, Joe White, was killed.”

Danny risked a glance at the very annoyed, and protective of his friend, SEAL. “Yes, I heard.”

“Commander McGarrett had a rough go after that. In fact, according to his medical file, he was diagnosed with PTSD. Technically, he was on medical leave before he _changed assignments._” Freddie vibrated with anger. Weston regarded him, her voice kind. “Did you know about his diagnosis?”

“No.”

Freddie practically bristled. Danny didn’t blame him, but this was important. Junior held Weston in rapt attention, his expression a cross between anger and desire to hear her out. 

“But you suspected it,” Weston continued when Freddie didn’t answer. “There are several instances of erratic behavior during the missions after White’s death, and a specific notation recorded by the Commander of SEAL Team 3 after an incident in Kazakhstan.”

“That’s classified.”

“Yes, Lieutenant, it is.”

“Then why the hell are you trying to dig up all this dirt right now?”

“I’m not.” Weston looked genuinely upset at the accusation. “I’m trying to help him.”

“Steve was diagnosed with PTSD almost two years ago?” Danny asked, trying to keep everything straight in his head. 

“Yes, and it’s my meager understanding that the death of Joe White was the breaking point. But it’d been brewing for a while. There were three different medical notations from the previous year’s going back to 2012.” Lori looked at Freddie. “And this is in no way a smear on a good man or a dedicated SEAL.”

Freddie stewed.

“How could the Navy allow one of their own to keep operating if he was sick?” Danny asked. 

“Because it costs a million dollars to train him,” Junior spoke, his voice monotone. “And if he was as highly decorated as I think he was, then he was highly effective.”

Danny was getting a raging headache on top of another bout of stomach issues. “Okay, so what does this have to do with the here and now, beyond the obvious need for treatment?”

“Because from what I’ve been able to piece together, Commander McGarrett wasn’t conducting a top-secret mission for JSOC or any other organization. He was conducting _his own mission._” Freddie grit his teeth, but Lori continued. “Either he was recruited by others or he recruited them. But he operated a small group of people, including Agent Kaye, to go after Masood Azhar, who benefited from Chinese protection.”

“There’s no way that JSOC would allow that,” Freddie argued. 

Weston looked sympathetic. “If they knew about it.”

“You don’t think JSOC would have knowledge of a small band of…of rogue special operators?” Freddie argued. “And if that’s the case, as soon as Steve steps one foot out of Tripler he’s going to prison, and I’m not talking the civilian kind.”

“From what I can tell, JSOC thinks Steve was working for the NSA, and the NSA thinks he was working for the CIA, and the groups working within the darkest shadows think he was working for someone else.”

Freddie’s eyes narrowed in thought. He actually relaxed a bit. 

Danny raised his hand. “What’s JSOC?”

“Joint Special Operations Command. They’re in charge of special operations missions worldwide,” Junior supplied.

“And this confusion is a good thing?” Because Danny didn’t know how inner-spy bureaucracy could benefit them. 

“It is.” Weston looked at Freddie as she spoke. “He can’t be charged with anything or it brings to light that no one in the US government had any idea that a Navy SEAL and small number of agents were conducting unsanctioned black ops against a high-value target.”

Everything dawned on Danny. “That’s why Kang was so pissed. He wanted to know where Steve was getting his intel. He wanted names inside the Chinese military who were helping him. That’s what he meant by traitors.”

It helped explained the vicious tenacity used to try to extract that information. 

“Do we know who the others in his team are?” Junior asked. 

“No. There is no evidence to their identities.” Weston lowered her voice. “For all we know, they’re still out there.”

Or they were dead. Because no one came looking for Steve. It was another rabbit hole. 

Danny scratched the stumble of his two-day old beard. “As fascinating and scary as this is, why is Dr. Bergman here?”

“I would deduce that it is to know the full history of the patient I’m trying to help in order to form a treatment plan that will benefit him.”

Freddie studied Bergman. “Do you know how to help him?”

“I’m still researching how doses of multiple types of barbiturates over several weeks can impact the higher centers of the brain.”

“And what have you learned?” Danny asked.

“That it’s going to take time. Barbiturates impair the functioning of the cerebral cortex by disabling the sensory circuits of the nervous system. Not to mention the impact of the other drugs he’d been administered. And while it’s been days since those chemicals have been cleared from Commander McGarrett’s system, his brain is, well, still injured.”

Danny pared out the scientific ramble in his head. “These sensory circuits, do they just need time to heal?”

“There is not enough sufficient evidence to predict an outcome.” Bergman stared at everyone in serious contemplation. “Ah. I believe there is confusion. Think of the brain as a big computer. And the circuits in Commander McGarrett’s brain have both been severely suppressed and overwhelmed. They could return to normal function…or his memories may never return.”

“But it’s possible that over time—without all those drugs flooding his body—he could recover?” Junior asked, optimistic. 

Bergman stared blankly before formulating an answer. “Let me be clear. At best, a drug can only serve as an aid to an interrogator who has a sure understanding of the psychology and techniques of interrogation. As we try to heal the physical aspects of the brain, we must also focus even more on the emotional aspects of the brain as well. The damage there is most extreme.”

White walls, sleep deprivation, being restrained and beaten. Much of Steve’s captivity was an attack on his mental state, not just his body. 

“And he was already sick before being detained and tortured,” Danny muttered. A part of him, for the dozenth time, selfishly wondered maybe if Steve’s amnesia was for the best. 

“We must not ignore his medical history,” Bergman began explaining again. “There are studies that explore how those suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder and other psychological conditions often experience difficulty in remembering recent events. Not to mention the suppression of memories is linked to a decrease in activity in the hippocampus—the area of the brain involved in making new memories and retrieving old ones. Talking in a biochemical sense, his PTSD probably impacted how his brain reacted to the torture.”

No wonder Kang was surprised by Steve’s memory loss. He had no idea that Steve had PTSD and was even more vulnerable to stress. Kang had recognized an opening and zeroed in on it, screwed with Steve’s head even more with the white room and a constant cocktail of drugs. 

Bergman was a genius and Danny appreciated not having things sugarcoated, but he needed some hope. Something to hang onto. “Okay, this—this is a lot to take in. Thinking about long-term treatment is good, but what about the here and now?”

“Commander McGarrett will probably be discharged in the morning.” Bergman adjusted his glasses. “There is no medical reason for him to remain in the hospital. I could try to find a half-way house or—” 

“No, there is no way he’s going to a strange place.” Like hell would Danny allow that to happen.

“He needs a secure environment with supervision until he acclimates from his trauma. He needs constant support.”

“He can stay with me.” Danny looked to Freddie to gauge his reaction.

“I live between Pearl-Hickman and the mainland with my family. I probably wouldn’t be a good candidate.”

Danny interrupted Freddie’s words as permission for Danny to watch over Steve. He felt honored. Junior gave Danny a nod and he knew that, while they may never discover who the other members of Steve’s secret team were, he had a brand new one watching his back. 

“Detective, this is a big obligation.”

It was Danny’s turn to stare at Bergman like he was missing the obvious. “Steve isn’t and will never be an obligation.”

Junior cleared his throat. “What about JSOC?”

“He’s on medical leave,” Weston said. “Always has been.”

Freddie clucked his tongue. “Not everyone is going to buy that.”

“Those who’d have the most to gain by interviewing Steve would suffer the most if his activities were to come to light,” Weston said. “Sometimes people would prefer the lie over the truth. And to be honest, there is no evidence to contradict any of it.”

Jerry’s office really was the perfect setting for this conversation. But enough was enough. Enough talking and theorizing and conspiracies. There was only one last plan of action. 

Danny clapped his hands, his heart spiking with adrenaline. “Okay, if I don’t have to worry about the CIA or a bunch of SEALs knocking down my door, I say it’s time to get Steve.”

Hopefully after everything, after learning about some of Danny’s secrets, Steve would accept his invitation, that he’d still welcome it. Welcome Danny even if he wasn’t the man Steve thought he was. Or would ever be.


	12. Chapter 12

* * *

Danny went home and got a shower and some food in his stomach before leaving again. It took ten minutes to convince Junior over the phone that he was indeed fine. Okay, so yeah his head pounded and it hurt to chew, but he didn’t care.

Tripler bustled with activity even in the early morning. Danny knew which room number Steve was in because he had it under guard—old habits die hard. 

His palms were sweating. Wiping them down his pants, Danny ran his fingers through his damp hair. He was buzzed on stress and a tiny glimmer of anticipation. 

Nodding at the officer, Danny rapped his knuckles lightly on the door before entering. 

He spotted Steve in the chair next to his bed, already dressed in cargo pants and a fresh black t-shirt. Someone must have brought him a change of clothes. 

Steve’s hair was wet and the cotton of his shirt practically clung to him, meaning he didn’t really dry off before putting it on. His right arm was in a sling and his face sported a couple new bruises, yet all Danny could think about was how grateful he felt.

“Hey,” Danny greeted. 

“Hey.” Steve looked at him in concern. “Are you all right?”

“Better than you and much more handsome.” Danny waved at the drop of water dripping down Steve’s forehead. “Did you know I was coming?”

Steve wiped it away. “Well, I hoped it was you, but I wasn’t sure. I, um…needed to get the smell of hospital off before you know….”

Danny glanced at the shower; it was the size of a closet.

“I left the door open,” Steve told him. He looked down at his feet.

“Well, I appreciate wanting to feel clean. Believe me.”

Steve still didn’t look him in the eye. The reality of the situation began weighing on his shoulders. Danny had committed crimes, and worse of all, he’d lied to Steve when he really needed a touchstone of honesty. 

“So,” Danny said, his voice thickening.

“It’s okay, Danny. I know you have a job to do.”

Danny narrowed his eyes. “What do you think I’m here for?”

Steve studied his hands. “Arrest me.”

“What?”

“I killed Kang. I killed those men.”

“And I killed Wo Fat,” Danny growled. “It was in self-defense.”

“I’m AWOL. I’m—"

“Hey, no! Don’t say words like that. Not ever. You hear me? You’re on medical leave; Weston confirmed it.”

Steve’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion. Damn it, this was not going according to plan. “Steve…I’m not here to arrest you. I’m here to take you home.” He wet his lips. “To my home.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I see we both need to work on communication.” Danny walked over and rested a hand behind Steve’s good shoulder. “Come on, we’re not staying here another second.”

Steve got to his feet, his expression frozen in confusion, but obeying Danny anyway.

“You still have to sit in a wheelchair, hospital rules.”

Steve looked deep in thought. “But the Navy…?”

“Until we’ve had a chance to talk, away from here, would you please…just trust me? I know that’s asking a lot, especially coming from me, after what I’ve –”

“I trust you, Danny.” Steve leaned against the wheelchair seat and released a heavy breath. “I have very little faith in most things, but the one thing I know I can always count on is you.”

Gripping the wheelchair handles between his hands, Danny made it a point of taking Steve through the halls and into the parking-lot without betraying what those words had done to his heart, keeping tears of elation from trailing down his face.

* * *

Now that they were inside Danny’s house, in the security of his living room, away from hospitals, military bases, police and the outside world, it was just the two of them again, this time different, yet the same. 

Steve sat on the sofa, but did not relax, seemingly poised for action. It made Danny fidget. “Would you like some water or tea?”

“How about a beer?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Steve nodded and continued to be tense and wary, which only set Danny on edge. He regretted not drinking the whiskey he had in the back of a cabinet. 

Grabbing a couple bottles of water from the kitchen, Danny handed one to Steve anyway. 

Steve took a sip and considered him. “Now what?”

Chilling out was not in Steve’s vocabulary. Then again, Danny wasn’t much better when it came to downtime. He hadn’t had much of a plan other than to check Steve out of the hospital. “We could watch some TV.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.”

“Then you’ll need to be more specific.”

Steve began peeling the label off the water bottle. “In the last twenty-forty hours I’ve met my best friend, killed the man who tortured me, and learned I was conducting secret missions against the Chinese government. Yet…I’m still a blank page.”

“We know your full name, that you have a sister on the mainland, and that she owns a rental home only half an hour away. It’s a lot of starting points.”

“I should probably report to the Navy.”

Steve was his own worst enemy, the result of being hyper-vigilant for way too long. “I think Agent Weston and Freddie are taking care of that for you.”

“I’m going to have to give a debriefing, as vague as it may be.”

“Steve, you’re on medical leave, which means you’re going to get treatment.”

“I highly doubt there’s a treatment plan for someone like me.”

Steve was irritable and touchy. He’d pulled the whole label off the water bottle and began pressing his fingers into the plastic until it crunched. 

Danny needed to give him some optimism to focus on. He needed to know that people who cared were working hard to help. “This might not be textbook, but Dr. Bergman is reaching out to some colleagues as we speak.”

The water bottled almost exploded inside Steve’s grip. “Oh, is he?”

Ouch. 

“Look, this is not how I wanted to talk about this. How about we start over?” Steve gave him a curt nod. “Yes, I had a meeting with Dr. Bergman, Weston, and Freddie. We had to debrief after what happened on the ship. We had to talk about you, and we had to talk about treatment options. But those options are for you to choose, when you’re feeling up to it. Bergman just needs a few days to put together suggestions for _you. The patient.”_

“Okay. Yeah, that makes sense.” Steve put the bottle down and rubbed at his eyes, then kneaded his bad shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“No need. You have the right to make decisions about your own care. But you are not alone. I’m here and Freddie is here and we’re all here. As support.”

Steve nodded again. “And what about…normal stuff? I don’t have a place to live, or money, or even an ID.”

“We’ll work on that. In the meantime, I thought, well, I thought maybe you could stay with me. Until you got back on your feet.”

“I don’t want to be a burden.”

A scoff escaped Danny’s lips. “Steven, if you think after everything we’ve just been through together I could ever think that, then you really do need your head examined.”

Steve had a terrible poker face based on the pleased little smile. It was like a release valve for Danny’s stress. Damn, this was going to be one hell of a roller coaster ride. 

Okay, time to bring the tension level down several notches. “Okay, I still have of your meds from last time. Do you need something for your shoulder?”

“I’m good. The sling is only for a few days to give it time to rest. And I’m sore, but that’s not unusual.”

Danny made a note to ensure that Steve being at any pain should never be a norm. “Did you want to watch some TV?” Because Steve needed space and time before Danny discussed any further topics of importance.

“Yeah, sure. Dealer’s choice.”

* * *

Nature documentaries were balms to the soul. The soothing voice of the narrator over the chirps and caws of animals, and swatches of greens and yellows. 

Danny explained in no uncertain terms how much he hated humidity and heat. Steve did his best to point out the beauty of what he saw, from awe of the simplistic beauty of flowers and leaves, to the harmony and balance between plants and animals.

Staring at the TV screen, Steve looked on in fascination. “I go to nature to be soothed and healed, and to have my senses put in order.”

“That’s deep, babe.”

Steve’s smile faded as if comprehending his thoughts. “It was a phrase that I had stuck in my head when…when…I’m not sure when. I just know it helped keep me calm.”

“I’m glad that it did,” Danny said, giving Steve’s knee a squeeze.

* * *

They watched a hockey game over lunch. Steve didn’t recognize any of the players, and Danny brought him up to speed on the newest rookies. Then they spent the rest of the game arguing over bad calls and agreeing about the best plays.

Dinner was frozen pizza followed by discussion about going shopping the next day. While Steve said he was perfectly happy with t-shirts and cargo pants, Danny insisted they buy some real clothes and things like toothpaste and mouthwash.

“And snacks, Steven, snacks of your very own are important. We’ll go food shopping, too.” Danny almost handed Steve a piece of paper to make a list of his favorites, before stuffing it in his back pocket and switching gears. “There’s a farmer’s market on Sunday. We can go to that, too. Fresh fruits and veggies.”

And maybe while Steve stayed with him, he’d develop a taste for his favorite foods that Danny could buy later.

* * *

Bedtime was less tricky, because Danny had a plan. 

“I’ll sleep on the sofa, Danny.”

“No, you will not. I’m not a sadist. You still have bruised ribs and a hurt shoulder, and you have the legs of a giraffe. You will have my bed because it’s a queen size.” Danny spread his arms out to emphasize his point. “With plenty of room.” 

“Danny….”

“Nope, see, we’ll move the single bed from Grace’s room into the master, and it‘ll be like a sleep over except for adults. Both beds in the same room.” Danny shook his pointer finger. “No blanket stealing.”

Steve didn’t say a word.

“Unless that’s creepy. It was less creepy in my head. I mean, I was thinking, while the size of the bed might be the main issue, maybe, well, it’s also about being alone?” God, Danny was babbling. “And if I’m there, in the room, then maybe….”

“You don’t need to bring the other bed into the room when there’s already a perfectly good one there,” Steve said.

“Oh, well yes, that would solve things. Are you sure?”

Steve smiled. “I did make the suggestion.” 

Point well taken.

* * *

Under any other circumstances, Danny would feel a sense of giddiness, a thrill of expectation. It’d been a while since he’d shared his bed with another man. College had been a lifetime ago. 

Which was why it wasn’t difficult to put certain feelings aside, because all Danny wanted to do, had since day one, was provide comfort. He was a nurturing man or had been once upon a time.

But now, now he could offer something deep inside his heart, provide Steve with a sense of protection, however small. And yes, he knew Steve could more than hold his own in a fight. The man was an elite soldier, but the fact of the matter was, he didn’t need to be on high alert. 

Steve could just _be_…he could crawl into bed surrounded by soft sheets and comfy pillows. Enjoy the act of relaxing without the terror of approaching footsteps or drug-induced sleep.

Steve settled against the pillows with a sigh of contentment, sending a shiver of happiness down Danny’s spine. He thought about leaving him in peace, but Steve shot Danny a questioning look when he started toward the door….

No words needed, Danny crawled into the bed, his body heavy, his brain so sleep deprived he thought he might be able to lie on his stomach and fall asleep in an instant.

Instead he lay on his back close enough for Steve to feel him nearby without physically touching. 

Steve was bare-chested, the sheets barely above his boxers, his breathing even. He wiggled his toes under the light blanket with a smile. 

“Is the temperature okay?” Danny asked. “I could make it colder or warmer.”

“It’s perfect.”

Articulating his emotions were not Danny’s forte. Words never felt adequate, leaving him tongue-tied. Wetting his lips, he opened his mouth to blurt out all the feelings that had been building up, when Steve slipped his fingers into his hand, his thumb rubbing circles over the top of Danny’s hand.

Danny caressed Steve’s moving thumb, the gentle, simple act of affection making his heart pound and all the remaining weight of hesitancy lift from his shoulders. 

He could lose himself in this, the beauty of physical touch, of shared intimacy. Danny curled his hand around Steve’s wrist, feeling the beating pulse beneath his fingertips, relishing the warmth of his skin.

And he could do this all night, soaking in being next to Steve, taking in the night air from the open window, listening to Steve breathe. His eyelids became heavier with every passing second until Steve took Danny’s wrist and began tugging him closer.

Danny went with it, moving until he cuddled next to him. Maybe Steve had the same problem with words, but they didn’t need them.

Danny wrapped his arm over Steve’s chest and rested his head along his good shoulder. Fidgeting for the best position, Steve snaked his good arm around Danny’s back, holding him close, the two of them slowly drifting off.

* * *

Something woke him. Feigning sleep was an art, one forged in the fire of never knowing if a member of the Yakuza would try to kill him in his bed. Danny listened for movement, sensing a shift in the bed followed by rapid inhalations. 

Sudden movement was bad. 

“Steve?” he whispered into the dark. 

The breath hitched.

Danny knew his bed, had shared it with different people. He knew when someone was sitting up.

Decisions. 

“Can’t sleep?” Danny asked. No judgment, not accusation.

“I….”

“I can’t remember the last time I slept the whole night either,” Danny confessed. 

“Bad dreams?” Steve asked, his voice hushed. 

“Sometimes. Mostly I can’t turn off my brain. Like, when I’m working, I’m focused. When I’m home, I’m too wired to think.” Danny didn’t turn his head, just stared at the ceiling. “But when I’m in bed trying to sleep, it’s like all my barriers are down and all the things I avoided thinking about during the day come rushing back.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “And it’s fragments of things or sometimes just….”

“Little things? Like the type of shit when you’re awake the next morning you kick yourself for obsessing over?”

Steve sighed. “Yeah….”

“Is that what happened tonight?” Danny asked.

“No…. I mean…I’m not sure….”

“That’s the worst, the not….” _The not remembering._ Danny bit his lip, because he understood, he really did. To a degree.

“Danny. Do you think…do you think I…I did this to myself?”

Danny pursed his lips. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…if Kang wanted me to remember something important, details about my team, names of those who helped us, maybe I just…erased it from my head.”

“He was a professional interrogator; he subjected you to drugs and torture. Then he thought it’d be a fun experiment to create your memory loss and confusion. ”

“Yeah, I get that, but what if…I was trying to forget all those names and, in the process…. What if my brain just…rebooted itself? What if I’m just that black screen waiting for the new install? “

“Maybe…maybe you were….” Steve stared at him in the dark, waiting. Hoping for answers. But it wasn’t Danny’s right to tell Steve about his medical records in this setting. “Maybe you just need rest, time. And with time you’ll get treatment and….”

“I’ll never get rebooted.”

Danny bit his bottom lip.

“Maybe it’s for the best,” Steve whispered. 

“Don’t ever say that.” Danny tangled their fingers together. “We’ll figure this out. Together.”

“Why would you want to? I mean, Danny…you meet me…what…a few days ago? I’m a fucking mess. I’m…out of control….” 

_“Were.”_

“What?”

“Were. Past tense. You might have been out of control and if you were, so what?” Danny sat up straighter his face inches away from Steve’s. “Seriously, who cares? I don’t. I care about you and I don’t care about what you might have theoretically done.”

“Actions matter, Danny.” 

Guilt squeezed Danny’s chest. He released Steve’s hand. “Yeah? What about mine? I destroyed two lives.” 

“Danny.”

“Michael Noshimuri died in prison and his brother spent two years behind bars.” 

“You were cornered; you felt you had no choice.”

“No choice?” Danny rubbed both hands over his face, caught between hysterical laughter and wanting to yell at the top of his lungs. “I betrayed everyone who has ever worn a badge. I betrayed an oath, the reason why I put on a uniform every day. I became one of the very monsters that I put behind bars.”

“You were hurting.”

“I wanted revenge.”

“You can be hurting and want revenge. You can be mentally screwed up because of weeks and months of horrific circumstances. Sometimes we can be pushed and pushed and pushed until…until you don’t even feel in control of your own actions…until you don’t even recognize yourself in the mirror.”

Danny reached out and squeezed Steve’s hand again, not only because of his willingness to forgive even when Danny wasn’t ready to forgive himself, but because whether Steve knew it or not, in part, Steve was talking about himself. He began rubbing his thumb over the top of Steve’s palm, down his bare wrist…

“Danny, I’m…I’m sorry about Matt’s watch. I asked Freddie to have a team search for it, but the ship is already at sea.”

“It’s okay, Steve.”

“No, it isn’t. It was your brother’s.”

“Yeah, it was. And I miss him. But I have other memories, other things to remind me of happier times. The watch became a constant reminder of who I was: an unhappy, paranoid, bitter person. I’m not that man anymore.”

Steve squeezed Danny’s hand even tighter.

“I think…I think we’re both going to be okay,” Danny said. “Maybe not tonight, or tomorrow, or the next week or hell, next year, but when we least expect it. We’ll be….”

“Fixed?” Steve asked, clutching Danny’s fingers. 

“Not so broken. And maybe one day we’ll both forgive ourselves.”

* * *

Danny was hopeful. Steve’s treatment plan was thorough. Two sessions a week focused on his recent captivity. His therapist worked with military vets with PTSD, but she stood out because of her background with Special Forces. And Max had vouched for her. 

Group therapy was a possibility for the future but that was down the road. No one had broached the topic of his medical file or his records with the SEALs. Not until there was some progress with his most recent trauma. 

Then there was physical therapy for his shoulder, and at least three days a week he spent just taking long walks outside until he was deemed fit to get back into the ocean. Once he’d been allowed to wade into a pool, Steve's overall mood improved. 

Dr. Bergman met with Steve at the house once a week to conduct interviews and gauge his level of amnesia, after which he’d share his findings with Steve’s care team and consult about further treatment. 

They had routines, something that helped Steve and Danny alike.

“Hey, I brought hamburgers from that new place, figured you’d like something tastier than those shake concoctions,” Danny called out when he arrived home. Steve had gone all health nut after he’d read that good nutrition aided in all kinds of recovery.

Danny tossed the bag and Steve caught it with both hands.

“How did the thing with Max go tonight?”

“I played some computer game and won.”

“Is that good?”

Steve answered in between chewing. “I guess.”

Danny dropped some of his stuff from work onto the coffee table and went into the kitchen. When he returned, he found Steve poking through his files. “Hey, don’t touch.”

“I’m bored.”

“Read a book. I have shelf after shelf.”

“I like hearing about your cases.”

“Hearing is different from snooping in things you’re not allowed to.”

“Is it on Wo Fat?”

“Not everything I bring home is about Wo Fat.” Although Danny had spent a lot of resources searching for the rest of his network. “Here, if you insist.” He pulled out one of the case files. “A string of robbery-homicides. Perfect bedtime reading.”

And of course, Steve read it while he ate. 

“You’re a Neanderthal, you know that?”

After twenty minutes, Danny took the files away. “Enough. Come on, there’s a hockey game on.”

Steve actually pouted. It made Danny smile.

They watched the game on the sofa together. Comfortable and relaxed. Steve was tightlipped about his session with Max, which Danny translated as little-to-no progress on retaining his memories. 

After the evening news they went into Danny’s bedroom and slept together—sharing the same bed, nothing more. There was snuggling and touching and Danny’s maddening desire for more. But he wasn’t going to be the one to instigate things. He’d wait on Steve to make the first move, hoping Steve would feel comfortable enough to do it, because taking cold showers at night and in the morning was becoming a bad habit.

* * *

“Wait, so you two aren’t doing it yet?” Tani asked, gobsmacked.

Danny spit out his coffee. “Excuse me, not everything is about sex.”

“You’ve made out like mad, though?”

When Danny didn’t answer, Tani’s eyes bugged out of her head. “Dude. Last time I checked, neither of you are nuns.”

“He’s like seeing two or three doctors a week. He’s got things to sort out.”

“Is he on meds? Because that could mess with his libido. Although there are meds to fix that, too.”

“We’re done talking about this.”

“Talking about what?” Junior asked.

“About the fact the boss and McGarrett are not jumping each other every chance they get.”

“Huh, I think I hear my phone ringing in the other room,” Junior said, doing an about face.

Oh God, his job was going to be hell this week. Maybe forever.

* * *

It was odd to find Freddie sitting on his sofa when he returned home after a grueling day.

Danny tossed his briefcase on the coffee table and looked at the empty living room. He noticed that Freddie was in uniform. “What’s going on?”

“Steve has to report to Pearl tomorrow.”

“About what?” Danny demanded. “He still doesn’t remember anything.”

Freddie held out his hands in a calming manner. “His superiors are fully aware. They’ve been briefed by the base psychiatrist as well Dr. Bergman and Steve’s doctor.”

“Then what’s the meeting about?”

“His medical retirement. Technically he hasn’t been in service for over a year, and given his current medical status….” Freddie looked away, his head hung low. “He’s getting full benefits.” Like it was some consolation prize.

Danny sat on the edge of the sofa. He’d never known Steve when he was in the service—hell, Steve didn’t know about his life in the SEALs—but it still felt like a physical blow.

“Steve’s doctor discussed the death of Commander Joe White today and filled him in on some of the details.” Freddie looked up at Danny. “Steve knows about his previous PTSD diagnosis.”

Steve was an intelligent man; he knew he had PTSD, but now he knew for how long…and what triggered it years ago.

“Where is he?” Danny asked. He needed to see Steve for himself, make sure he was okay.

“Outside playing with Eddie.”

“I’ll take off work tomorrow.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

Freddie grabbed his cap and stood up. “I’m glad he met you, Danny. Given all the shit that’s happened, the one good thing in this hell storm was finding you.”

* * *

That night Danny pulled out the game Risk. He and Steve stayed up until four in the morning trying to conquer the world.

They both fell asleep on the sofa without nightmares.

* * *

Steve walked into the living room wearing his service khaki uniform. The button-up shirt accentuated Steve’s chest. A name tag bearing 'McGarrett' was above the left shirt pocket and his rank was on the collar. The SEAL trident and the various ribbons of a highly decorated officer adorned the left pocket. 

“You look good, babe.” It wasn’t a lie.

“I was surprised how well it fits. Feels tailored.” Steve looked at himself in the hallway mirror, not in a vain way, more curious. He smoothed his hands down his pants. “My skin feels…overly sensitized.”

“It’s been a while since you’ve worn it.”

Steve brushed his hand over the golden eagle then over the U.S. Navy anchor. “And it’ll be the last.”

A knock interrupted whatever words of encouragement Danny was going to offer. Opening the door, he nodded at Junior and Freddie, both of whom would accompany Steve into the meeting. Danny was forever grateful.

“You ready?” Freddie asked.

Standing tall, Steve oozed confidence and, maybe, a little peace. “Yes, I am.”

* * *

Punctuality was an understatement; they were an hour early.

Danny might have peeked inside the conference room when looking for the bathroom. For a meeting about retirement, there sure were a lot of high-ranking people sitting around a long table. Some of them screamed CIA. 

Two more people in suits showed up. About eight members of the military and several spooks had _a meeting before the meeting._ Danny’s ire was raised. He wasn’t allowed to sit inside the room, being a mere civilian, and while Freddie and Junior were granted the courtesy of joining Steve, it felt like a freaking ambush.

Until about a dozen more SEALs showed up. All dressed in uniform, all nodding at Freddie then at Steve.

Junior leaned toward Danny’s ear. “Members of the various platoons Steve’s served on before he took on his last assignment.”

Steve may have looked at them without recognition, but his men paid him all the respect regardless.

When the meeting was called to order, fourteen men piled into a cramped little room behind Steve. Danny didn’t feel as apprehensive anymore. He felt proud.

* * *

Danny had barely toed off his shoes when he got home and popped open a beer before Steve decided to sucker punch him.

“I think I should move into my own place.”

“Excuse me? You went into a room and retired from the Navy and now you want to move out?”

“My therapist says in order to improve my recovery, I need to….”

“Need to what?”

Steve worked his jaw back and forth. “Let go of my safety net.”

Danny took two giant gulps of beer. 

“I have my ID. I’m cleared to drive. I have almost two years of back pay in the bank.” Steve spoke like he’d rehearsed his points. Maybe he had.

“Where?”

“I’ve been talking to my sister. She agreed to let me rent the house from her for a discount since it’s paid off.”

Danny felt dizzy.

Steve stuck his hands into his pockets. “We might even meet up next month.”

“That’s, that’s good.”

“Getting my own place does not mean we can’t see one another.”

“Who’s going to read all my case files and give me crazy suggestions?”

“Hey, some of my suggestions have paid off.”

A few had. Steve had good instincts.

Steve ducked his head. “I’m sorry, Danny.”

“Sorry? For what? For trying to make a full recovery? I don’t want to be a detriment to that.”

“You’re never a detriment, do you hear me?”

“But I’m a safety net?”

“I would have never had made it this far, hell, nowhere near this far without you.”

But what about the nightmares? The late night talks, the hand holding when words were not enough?

What would happen when Steve had one of his episodes? When he stared into space not knowing where he was?

But Danny needed to be strong. For Steve. “Well, you’ve gotten the hang of that phone calendar app for all your appointments and meds.”

“You’re more than just a calendar.”

Deep down Danny knew that, but that didn’t make him any less disappointed. He understood his feelings were stupid, selfish. Steve was a grown man, and he deserved to build a new life, but emotions were without logic and so fucking powerful. Locking them away was the only way to deal with them.

“Look, there’s something else that I think…that’s important.” 

“Is this where you suggest I need to see a shrink, too?”

Steve blinked. “How did you…?”

“Because my daughter, ex-wife, and my team have all made that same suggestion before.” 

Steve pulled out his new wallet and fished out a business card. “This is someone my therapist recommends. And I think they could be a help to you.”

Danny took the card. Part of him wanted to toss it away when Steve wasn’t looking. But the rational part of him knew better.

Steve stuffed his hands into his pockets. “You’ve been through a lot, Danny. I think it would be good if we were both, you know, seeing professionals. It’s just to talk.”

Danny didn’t want to talk. Wo Fat was dead. His family was safe. Part of him wondered if Steve’s doctor was concerned about Steve being around him or if Steve was projecting. 

“Have you stored away all your weapons or are they still tucked away everywhere?” Steve asked.

“I have a dangerous job.”

“You have a gun in the freezer.” Steve looked around the living room. “Ask yourself this. Would you be able to sleep at night if they were locked-up somewhere else?”

“This is very funny coming from a Navy SEAL.” But Danny’s immediate reaction was no, he wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if his weapons were not hidden in various places within reach. He knew such paranoia wasn’t healthy. And the man before him was trying to heal, trying to find solid ground again, trying to share his journey with him. 

Danny chewed on his bottom lip. Grace, Charlie, all his friends deserved to visit a home, not a fort. Danny put the card on the coffee table next to his cell phone. 

Maybe he and Steve both needed to give-up their safety-nets. “I’ll make an appointment tomorrow.”

* * *

Late night texting became a thing. 

They would talk about some of Danny’s most unusual suspects of the day, even batting around theories regarding unsolved cases. 

_Who’s the cop again?_ Danny texted with a smile. 

Sometimes Danny would get a four-word message. _Another bad one tonight. _

And it took everything in him not to throw on some clothes and drive over. But Steve’s therapist said they needed some space apart, that Steve needed to learn how to work things out on his own for a little while. 

Instead, Danny would talk about Tani or Lou or about the latest rumors at HPD until Steve would reply. _I’m good now. Thank you. _

Other nights, Eddie would nuzzle Danny’s hands and he’d stroke his fur while trying to fill the void of being alone again.

* * *

Danny couldn’t recall the last time he’d been to a barbeque that wasn’t at Lou’s house. But Steve had invited them all over three weeks after he’d moved into his childhood home. 

It took everything in Danny’s power not to check to see if Steve was following his med schedule or ask how he was sleeping. Inside the living room, he wondered if Steve slept on the floor or his actual bed. 

Eddie wagged his tail as soon as he spotted Steve near the edge of the grass manning the grill.

“Hey, boy, how are ya?” Steve gave Eddie many head scratches.

Danny watched Steve play with Eddie, noting his newly tanned arms and chest. He wore shorts and a gray t-shirt, and his smile when he saw Danny could power the whole neighborhood. God, how he'd missed him.

Danny walked toward Steve carrying a six-pack of Longboards, the beer nearly crushed between their bodies as Steve enveloped him in a giant hug. When Danny caught his breath again, Steve still clung to him. It felt fucking good.

“Yo, where’s the grill? It’s time for the master to take over,” Lou called out as he walked over.

Steve let go of Danny and shouted, “There is only one grill master and that’s me. Hey!”

Eddie barked and Junior and Tani came down the yard, each carrying food and supplies. Tani made a deliberate beeline toward Danny. “I bet I don’t get that type of hug,” she said before setting her stuff on a table.

It was going to be another long day. 

Junior helped grill steaks—when he could get between the dynamic duo of barbeque. Lou would not take no for an answer and explained the finer points of searing meat. Steve looked on, amused.

Freddie dropped by an hour later, looking more like a pro-volleyball player than a badass SEAL in a worn t-shirt and board shorts. He clapped Danny on the back hard enough to knock him down. “I brought Frisbees and a hammock.”

Danny peered over the other man’s shoulder. “And another guest.”

“Yeah, found her hitchhiking down the road.” Freddie laughed and went toward Steve.

“Agent Weston,” Danny greeted. It was strange to see her in a casual tank top and shorts. 

“It’s Lori. The agent doesn’t apply anymore.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not. Kind of felt like I didn’t know what side I was working for.” Lori peered out at people chatting around the grill. “I did make some in-roads on the Wo Fat file. I’ll send you what I’ve got before I leave.”

Danny had made his own progress on the man’s dealings on the island, but it would be nice to compare notes. 

“Did you ever find out what your friend Jenna was doing? I mean, why she might have been involved to begin with?”

“Her fiancé was killed on a CIA op. The money funding the people responsible was for Masood Azhar. Given his base of operations and the current political climate, he was considered off-limits. I think we can postulate the rest.”

Danny nodded in understanding. All this trauma and death as a result of personal pain. 

Lori made her way toward Jerry and Tani as they gathered lawn chairs.

“You know, we could use an experienced person on the team,” Junior said from behind him.

“You know I hate it when you ninja up to me like that.”

“I’ve got to keep in practice.”

Danny could only guess at what type of trouble three SEALs and bunch of cops could get into after some sun and alcohol. He'd better call HPD and warn them now.

Popping open his second beer, he wandered toward the party in time to hear Freddie talking about the time he had to fish out of the same river as a bear. Junior tried topping him with a tale about a mission in which he got drunk with four goat herders to keep the peace between rival tribal leaders.

Steve grinned at their stories, but it was obvious he had nothing to share. 

Fate, though, liked to stick its foot out and trip Danny. He heard a familiar voice behind him. “Hey, Danny.”

Turning around, he watched as Kono and Adam walked toward him.

“Hey,” Danny said for lack of a better greeting.

Kono gave him a hug. Adam nodded at him. “How are you doing, Danny?”

“I’m good. I…I didn’t know….”

“Lou invited us,” Kono said. “We’re here to visit my cousins. I hope you don’t mind us dropping by?”

“Of course not. I mean, it’s not my party.”

“I can’t wait to meet Steve,” Kono whispered in his ear.

Danny blushed and Kono got a twinkle in her eye. “Oooh, you’ve got it bad.”

She practically skipped toward the others. Adam chuckled, glancing at him, his smile fading to introspection. “You’ve had quite the last couple of months.”

“Yeah.” Danny cleared his throat. “I’m glad we found the person who killed your father.”

While Hiro had brought hell to Danny’s family, Adam was not his father and he deserved to have the man who murdered him brought to justice. 

“Thank you, Danny. I can sleep better at night knowing this nightmare is finally over.”

“You don’t need to thank me.”

“Danny, what happened is in the past. I was a screwed up, spoiled brat. Prison…prison was a hard teacher, but I would not have the life I love today without it. I wouldn’t have Kono, a child. I wouldn’t have peace.”

It was a hard thing to accept, that his anger, his grief put an innocent man behind bars. But Kono spent two years helping to free Adam after Danny realized his horrible mistake. After the two of them got Adam out, Kono had begun a whole new journey as a result. 

Adam brought Danny in for a hug. “You’re Ohana, Danny. Now, come on and introduce me to Steve.”

* * *

At some point, everyone had decided to go for a swim in the ocean, or jump in. The sane among them avoided it and were splashed by those already swimming around.

Danny escaped inside to wander around the kitchen in search of something non-alcoholic—or just to get away from it all, given Junior and Freddie thought they were part fish.

Searching the fridge, Danny turned around to find Steve tracking water as he walked around the kitchen island.

“Wow, babe. I think even Eddie knows to shake before he comes inside.” 

Steve flicked water from his hair into Danny’s face. “It’s refreshing.”

It was distracting. Because it left nothing to the imagination. He’d seen Steve shirtless, seen him clad only in boxers, but there was something about Steve dripping wet, his clothes glued to his body, water trailing down his face, plastering his hair.

Danny stepped closer to Steve. He could feel the moisture from his skin, smell the salt in his hair. He couldn’t take it anymore. “Damn it. If you don’t kiss me right now….”

Steve curled one hand around Danny’s waist, bringing them together, Steve’s knee pressing along Danny’s thigh, their chests touching. 

Danny exhaled quickly, his breath rough in his throat as Steve leaned down and pressed their lips together. Danny put everything he was feeling into his kiss. He hoped he was telling him how much he cared, how amazing things could be between them if given the chance. 

Danny brought his hands up to Steve’s face, kissing him soft and sweet, before pulling back for air.

Steve’s hand lingered on Danny’s shoulders. He had a look on his face that Danny had never seen, something like utter serenity, like he could have died happy right then and there.

“It’s about time.” Danny turned his head toward Tani’s excited voice. She beamed like she’d just won the lottery. “I can’t wait to tell the others. You guys are going to tell everyone, right?”

“Yeah?” Danny looked at Steve in permission and Steve just grinned at him like a goof.

“That’s a yeah,” Tani said, clapping her hands together. “This party is going to go through the roof now.”

Danny laughed and Steve laughed with him, and yeah, this news would really get that party going full tilt. Danny really was going to have to call HPD and warn them.

* * *

It was late by the time everyone left Steve’s house. Freddie and Junior took an Uber home while Lori and Tani headed to a local spot to hang out more. It was good to catch up with Kono, and after a couple of hours, Danny actually felt comfortable around Adam. 

Jerry had heavy conversations with Lou about secret bases with black helicopters. Steve shushed Danny before he could mention his own first-hand experience.

“I’ll clean everything in the morning,” Steve called out when Danny began washing dishes. 

“And let this all sit overnight?”

“Yeah.”

There was something about Steve’s voice, a throaty rumble to his words that made Danny look up from scrubbing one of the plates.

At some point Steve had changed into a sleeveless shirt, tanned skin and tattoos accenting his defined biceps and shoulders. He leaned against the counter with a contented smile, watching Danny. 

Danny swallowed. “And what should I do instead of cleaning up?”

“I have an idea or two.”

“Oh, really?” Danny grinned. “We talking about watching a movie? Maybe going for another swim?”

“You don’t swim.”

“No, but I’d make the sacrifice if it meant we’d get wet together.”

“I was thinking more like taking our clothes off.”

This was definitely not the same Steve Danny had hung around a few weeks ago; the confidence was ridiculously hot.

“Have you been practicing that in front of a mirror?” Danny teased.

Steve ducked his head. Now that was a familiar gesture. Taking a step back, Steve rubbed at the back of his head. “No. I mean…I just thought being more forthcoming….”

“I like forthcoming,” Danny said, not wanting Steve to feel awkward. “I think you’re very good at being forthcoming,” he said in a low voice.

“Yeah, well. I’d rather show you more than talk about it.”

Danny blushed in anticipation. “Yes, showing me is very good. I’d like to show you a few things as well.”

Steve’s whole face lit up at Danny’s words and he began pushing Danny toward the hallway. “Then enough talking.”

“Oh, you're handsy when you’re determined.” Danny laughed, going with it. “I like bossy you.”

“Then you’ll like me more when we’re in bed.”

Hell yeah, Danny couldn’t wait for that.

* * *

They made it to Steve’s bedroom in seconds. 

Danny wanted to touch Steve everywhere, kiss his every part of him: over the ink of his arms, down his chest, and all the tender places he'd been too afraid to touch. Even now, he was still cautious despite the desire thrumming in his veins. 

He reached out and stroked the side of Steve’s cheek, relishing the sensation of stubble under his fingers, bringing Steve toward him for a kiss. 

Steve's lips were warm and soft, and they parted under Danny's with a grateful sigh. Steve made happy noises as he kissed Danny’s mouth, his jaw, and back to his lips again, his eagerness infectious.

“Danny,” Steve breathed before deepening the kiss.

Danny moaned in approval, curling his hands around Steve's shoulders, nuzzling the space where his skin formed a hollow just above his collarbone. This was what kept Danny up at night, thinking about Steve, needing and wanting this for weeks.

He moved to press his mouth to Steve's neck and paused, panting, breathing in salt and sea. Moving his head away, he looked up into Steve’s eyes, Steve watching his every move.

“It’s…it’s okay, I want you to touch me there.”

Slowly, Danny brushed his lips over the tendons of his neck, over the spots abused over and over again by painful needles. By uncaring, unfeeling evil. But Danny would cover those areas with his lips and kisses, with the utmost gentle care.

Steve groaned, his body tensing then relaxing as he played with Danny’s hair, dug his fingers into Danny’s back. 

Danny ran his hands down Steve's sides while Steve bent down, kissing and touching Danny with fervor. 

After they touched and kissed each other senseless, Steve pulled away, his breathing heavy as he tried removing his clothes. 

“Let me help you,” Danny said. Because yes, God, the idea of stripping Steve was such a turn-on. 

Even though it’d been weeks, Danny was still careful of Steve’s ribs and shoulder, pulling the shirt gently over Steve’s head. Danny pulled back a fraction, desperate to see all of Steve, drink in the sight of him naked. 

The burns on his chest were faded marks, almost blending in with Steve’s tanned skin. 

Danny kissed each one, touching them with his fingers, before kissing every other patch of Steve’s skin, every other part of his chest, ensuring all Steve felt was his mouth.

“Danny,” Steve growled, his legs shaking.

Pleased, Danny took a step back and pulled his own shirt over his head. And before he could toss it somewhere, Steve's hands glided down Danny's sides, his thumbs rubbing over Danny’s nipples, sending shock waves of pleasure through him. 

“Jesus.” Danny dropped the shirt with a gasp.

Steve kissed him again. Danny tilted his head as Steve licked and kissed the side of his throat. He moaned in exquisite happiness. 

“Get in bed,” Danny said between gasps.

Grinning, Steve crawled onto the top of the bed, then flipped onto his back. 

Fuck, he looked so good. From the long lines of his body to the thickness of his cock. It was pulse-pounding, seeing him like this, sprawled out, watching him. Waiting.

Danny hesitated a moment, because Steve didn’t remember his previous experiences. Or if he’d ever had any with men before. But that didn’t seem to matter as Steve began to get up again when Danny wasn’t apparently moving fast enough.

“Hey, hold a second,” Danny said around a smile. “Allow me a moment to bask in this picture.”

Steve eased back along the bed, sprawling his legs wider in invitation. God. 

He couldn’t wait any longer, wanting to blow Steve’s mind. Danny knelt on the bed. Bracing one hand on the mattress and the other on Steve's hip, Danny bent down to suck Steve's cock. 

"Fuck!" Steve's hips jerked up. “I…wasn’t…expecting….”

The rest of Steve’s words blurred into babbling gibberish as he groaned and panted for breath. Danny sucked hard, and Steve arched against him, his muscled thighs flexing and coiling with every shuddered gasp. 

Danny had wanted this for days, weeks, but there’d been so much danger, then healing and recovery. And they were far from over, but for tonight, tonight they could _finally_ act on each other’s desires, indulge in happiness, lust, and overwhelming need. 

It was enough. It was more than enough, as Danny swirled his tongue over Steve’s length, Steve's thighs shaking. 

He sucked harder, leaning against Steve's leg to keep it still. Danny was going to make this so good.

"Danny…Danny....” 

He didn’t think Steve’s voice could get that high. Danny basked in glee, knowing he was making Steve whimper in pleasure. It sent another excited thrill down his spine as he slipped a hand behind Steve's balls, applying just the right kind of pressure.

Steve jerked, arching up off the mattress as he came, his eyes wide and stunned.

Danny swallowed it all then released Steve's softening cock and sat up, grinning down at Steve's still-quivering form.

"Oh, my God," Steve said, still flat on his back, looking up at the ceiling, panting. 

Humming in pleased satisfaction, Danny began removing his own boxers, but didn’t get a chance to finish.

With a sound that was almost a growl, Steve pulled Danny down for a kiss while his hands worked at lowering Danny's boxers the rest of the way down his legs.

Still kissing him, Steve reached over and pressed the palm of his hand hard against Danny's cock, rubbing up and down in delicious torment.

Danny made keening sounds in the back of his throat at Steve’s teasing hand. With his climax building with every stroke of Steve’s fingers, Danny repositioned himself, throwing one leg over Steve's body to offer better friction as he thrust against Steve's thigh and hip.

He greyed out a little when he came. He felt lightheaded as he collapsed partially on Steve's chest, sighing in blissed-out contentment. 

Still panting for breath as his heartbeat slowly returned to normal, Danny allowed his body to go boneless. “That…that was….”

“Amazing,” Steve drawled, sounding as wrecked and happy and exhausted as Danny felt. 

Eyes heavy, Danny felt himself drift while still lying next to Steve, a part of his brain telling him they should clean themselves up.

“Steve,” Danny mumbled.

“Yeah, just give me one more second.”

“Hell, take a whole minute.” Danny chuckled. “Take more than one.”

At some point, Danny would get up and wet some towels to avoid dealing with the shower, but for the time being, he’d relish the receding adrenaline rush and nuzzle up to Steve’s sweat-slick skin for another moment. Or five. Or forever.

* * *

Summer turned into fall, which didn’t mean much on a tropical island, but it made Danny miss New Jersey. He couldn’t dwell on being homesick with so many exciting things bubbling up. His Monkey was going to visit next week, which meant she’d get to meet Steve, something he was still planning.

But right now, he had more exciting news. Giddy, he used his key to Steve’s house—his key, which made him grin every time he got to use it—and let himself into the house. Steve wasn’t inside, which meant he was swimming.

Still bouncing on his heels, he went onto to the lanai to find Steve sitting in one of the chairs, watching the sea.

“Steven, you were right.”

“Yeah, about what?”

“Your whole Roman code thing.”

“The cipher?”

“Yeah, that asshole, Riggs, wrote out his whole operation using it.”

“Huh, so it wasn’t just random gibberish.” Steve _hmmed_ under his breath. 

“Nope. You really did me a solid on this.”

“Yeah, that’s awesome.”

There was little enthusiasm behind Steve’s words, but Danny pressed on, his own excitement enough for the both of them. “And it got me to thinking….”

“You know that never leads to good things,” Steve said with a wan smile. 

Danny rolled his eyes. “I was thinking, you know, maybe you could help out in a more official capacity.”

“Official?”

“Yeah, get paid to help review cold cases. Jameson is all on me about trying to make some headway on them.”

Steve’s shoulders slumped. “Danny, I can’t carry a weapon on any job. I’d never pass the psych evaluation.”

While Steve’s amnesia wasn’t the issue, he was still taking medication and recovering from PTSD. 

“I know that, and hey, listen to me, I know you will one day. But right now, I was thinking as a consultant.”

“A consultant. Like Jerry?”

“Well, yeah.”

“I don’t know.” Steve stared at the ocean again.

Danny’s mood began deflating with Steve’s continued lack of reaction. “I thought you’d be more excited. You’re going stir crazy, I know that. You have the background for this type of work. You may not remember it, but your gut, your ability to analyze…it’s still there.”

“I…no, that sounds…appealing.” 

Steve smiled at him, but Danny knew Steve, recognized certain tells. “Want to tell me what’s bothering you?”

“Nothing. I’m not upset…I’m….” Steve wrinkled his brow. “Freddie and I figured out why I was on Oahu. When I was abducted.”

“Oh.” Danny sat down in the chair next to Steve, his mind racing. He hadn’t been prepared for this topic. 

“It was the anniversary of my parent’s car accident. I think I came back to visit them.”

“Oh, wow. That’s big.”

“I've been so focused on getting better, I never thought to wonder why I returned home.”

“And now you know. That’s great. I mean, I’m sorry about where your head might be at as a result, but it’s another piece to the puzzle.”

Steve nodded and Danny took a second to sit quietly while the two of them watched the waves lap against the sand. The sun was setting at the horizon, a beautiful array of oranges tinged with purples. It was gorgeous.

“I was sitting here after Freddie left and thinking, you know, watching the water, at how peaceful it is out here,” Steve spoke quietly. “And…and I remembered sitting in this chair while my mom and dad spread out a blanket for a picnic. It had little yellow flowers on it. My dad put down the blanket then called out to Mary. And that’s it…there’s nothing else. But those twenty seconds? They were clear as day inside my head.”

Danny’s heart skipped a beat, his throat going dry. “Oh, babe.” Standing, Danny opened his arms wide and Steve rose to his feet and met his embrace. “It’s just a piece, a single piece, but Steve….”

Steve wrapped his arms around Danny, holding him tight. They stood, enveloped in each other for what felt like forever, until Steve's trembling ebbed into a sway. 

And after several long moments, Steve pulled away, tears pooling in his eyes. “I can hear my dad’s voice in my head. I never thought I’d hear it again.”

“But you did.”

Steve sucked in another breath. “I did.”

“Look, I know this is scary stuff, it’s the unknown revealing itself, but I’m here with you. And I’ll be here every step of the way.”

“Yeah,” Steve said, choked-up. He took another rapid breath. “Danny.”

“Yeah?”

“Stay with me tonight.”

“Of course.”

“And every night.”

Danny’s heart started going a million miles an hour. “Like _here?”_

“Well, it’s better than that fortress you live in.” Steve chuckled. “But it doesn’t matter. Here, there, maybe somewhere new. It’s just…. with my memories, whatever happens, happens. But all I really want is to focus on the present. On the here and now. With you.”

“You had me at _stay with me every night.”_ Taking Steve’s hand, Danny turned toward the ocean, breathing in the salt-tinged air, soaking in the man beside him. 

They would start with right now. By watching today slowly turn into tomorrow. And the day after that. Learning from the past, but not allowing it to define them. Not when we they had so much to look forward to.

* * *

Fini

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/183517509@N06/48546714802/in/dateposted-public/)

* * *

Graphic by Nihilvanum

Thank you so much.

[More Beautiful artwork by Alohaspaceman](https://alohaspaceman.tumblr.com/post/187048649956/past-tense-written-by-thekristen999-while)

Thank you for taking this ride with me. It was a long journey. I don’t have plans to add to this verse. I’ve got a lot of rehab ahead. But thank you for all the support and I hope everyone enjoyed it. \o/ \o/

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Art: Past Tense](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20262853) by [nihilvanum (indiguus)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/indiguus/pseuds/nihilvanum)


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